The Elder Scrolls Adventures
by Volcanoran
Summary: Re-upload of a previous story that I edited and made some corrections. Beginning after the events of The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, the champion of Cyrodiil will find his story is not yet over, and that his name will continue to be heard on the currents of time. Rated T for potential mature themes in later chapters.
1. Bringer of Peace

The Elder Scrolls Adventures

Volume 1:

Bringer of Peace

Shadewa walked south along the Green Road, casually strolling along. Having just passed Bravil, he was on his way to Leyawiin. He had been to Cloud Ruler Temple, but left, disgusted. The Blades had completely given up, believing none of them had a life purpose anymore, now that the last Dragonborn Emperor was gone; they planned to shut themselves in Cloud Ruler Temple, silent, independent, waiting until they were needed again, hiding from the world. They asked Shadewa to remain there with them, but he tried to tell them that this was not the way it should be, they refused to listen to him. So, Shadewa left the temple for the final time now, keeping only his Akaviri blade.

The Blades were devoted to their traditions, especially those about their oaths and lifelong commitments, and now that there was no longer an heir to the Septim line, they would simply wait until there was another Dragonborn, even if they'd have to wait 1000 years for one. In truth they were no different than Shadewa's family back at house Redoran; set in their ways and unwilling to change even when the purpose of their ways no longer exists.

It was pathetic…

"How did I manage to be born in to such a pitiful world?" he asked. "Where my own race is blinded by its traditions, where the most legendary people in Tamriel are really just obsessive, submissive fools, and where you fade from history even when you nearly die defending this world…?" He stopped his walk and looked at the sky. "Is this what my destiny is? To be exiled from my own homeland, to lose all the friends I've ever had, and to see my companions hide from reality, just so they don't have to change things as they are? Am I to just live in this shipping crate of a world, where the only things that change are the contents of the crate, but never the crate itself, until the frame just rots away and disappears, or falls apart from excessive use?"

He didn't know exactly who it was he was trying to ask that question… but he gained no answer nonetheless. Straightening his shirt and fingering the pommel of his Akaviri blade, he continued down the road. But as he walked, he saw some activity going on up ahead. Six people, one in the middle with the other five around them, and a seventh lying face-down in the dirt.

Shadewa shadowed his eyes, peering out to the possible conflict.

He could see the center person, a robed figure, with a tail… an Argonian by the looks of it, and they were carrying a staff. A mage, by the looks of it. The five around the Argonian were garbed in various attire, but one of them was wearing Bonemold Armor, a medium-weight armor found only in Morrowind… and by the looks of the helmet they wore, they were of House Telvanni.

Shadewa drew his bow from his back, and got closer, until he could hear the figures, all apparently Dark Elves like himself, and it was no surprise they were Telvanni; more than any other of the Great Houses, except for Shadewa's family in house Redoran, the Telvanni were against the laws passed by the Empire, especially the ending of Slavery on the Argonians and Khajiit. Although such had not yet been completely abolished from Morrowind yet, it seems the Telvanni were stepping up their raids for capturing slaves, and were even becoming bold enough to venture into Cyrodiil.

Shadewa was in earshot of them, and readied an arrow as he heard the leader talking.

"You'll pay for killing my accomplice, you little lizard-witch," growled the leader, the armored figure. "Make things easy on yourself so that we don't have to haul you back to Morrowind with broken limbs."

"You're violating the laws of the Empire!" the Argonian argued; by the voice, the Argonian was female. "Slavery is forbidden in this province, and so is the hunting of them!"

"We of House Telvanni are not bound by those fools that claim themselves the rulers of Tamriel," stated the leader. "Their laws do not apply to us."

"They apply to everyone, especially foreigners who come into this country," returned the Argonian.

"And what will anyone do? Who's going to report the disappearance of one pitiful lizard?" asked the leader. "Not to mention, who will they report to? The Emperor? Oh that's right, there IS no Emperor; only a half-wit Chancellor who doesn't care about the provinces. So who, lizard, do you think is going to help you?"

"Yeah, we'd really like to know," added one of the thugs.

Not a second after, the same thug hollered in pain and went down, an arrow in his side, leaving him floundering in pain on the road. The other four, and the Argonian, turned in surprise in the direction the arrow had come from, and there they saw the bright-red haired Dunmer approaching. Red hair was uncommon for Dark Elves, especially hair that bright in color; it was as bright as a burning fire, grown all the way down to his collar, it made the dark grey skin of his face stand out like a sore thumb with its darker complexion. He had sheathed his bow, and now had a hand on his sword, ready to draw.

"And who might you be, kinsman?" asked the leader.

"My name is none of your concern," he stated. "You will leave that woman alone, or you will have to deal with me."

"Oh? And for what reason would you come to her defense?" asked the leader. "Are you planning to take her yourself?"

"No, and I have no intention of letting anyone do so either," he drew forth his Akaviri sword. "Now leave her alone; this is your last warning."

"Fine, lizard-lover," growled the leader. "Kill him!"

Two of the other men came rushing at Shadewa, drawing their longswords. The first one to reach him thrust his sword at him, only to miss and be gutted by a swift slash from Shadewa's blade. The other one came in less blindly, forcing Shadewa to parry his strike, and then kick the elf away from him before he thrust his sword into the man's stomach; the Akaviri Katana wasn't exactly meant for thrusting, but it was plenty effective if the wielder came at the right angle.

Blood spurt forth from the puncture wound as Shadewa pulled back his sword, and restanced himself, the leader grunting in annoyance. "You're skillful, I'll give you that," he admitted.

"Sir?" asked one of the henchmen.

"What?"

"I recognize this elf… that's Shadewa Andalara, the renegade from house Redoran."

"Andalara?" asked the leader, looking at Shadewa through the eye slits of his helmet. "No wonder he's protecting this witch. You're the one who freed all those slaves and got yourself exiled from Morrowind, are you?"

"I am," replied Shadewa. "And you are violating Imperial Law; taking slaves is frowned upon as it is, but capturing them from outside Morrowind is a serious crime."

"Who do you think you are, an Imperial Legionnaire?!" demanded the leader. "Boys, you two take the lizard; I'll deal with this one myself."

"I've got her, captain," replied the second of the remaining thugs, but as soon as he made a move towards the Argonian, she thrust her palm forward, crackling with lightning and electrocuting the thug; instantly he went down, twitching.

"It's an even match, now," said Shadewa. "Two against two; dare you fight me without a whole gang to protect you?"

The leader drew his sword; a Steel Longsword, it looked like, of Morrowind make. The Steel blades from Morrowind were actually stronger than those of Cyrodiil, the flare in the upper portion of the blade giving it better cutting power, and the second flare above the hilt giving it weight and density to protect against blows.

Shadewa had no armor, and he didn't know how well a Blades sword was going to cut through Bonemold Armor, but it was all he had. He would have to rely on his speed for this battle…

The leader gripped his sword with both hands and rushed forward, intent to strike very clear. Shadewa gripped his own sword with both hands as well, dodging his opponents' first swing and running behind him, slashing at his hip as he passed, but just as Shadewa feared, his sword did not go through the Bonemold armor, and the dark elf wearing it retaliated with a mighty backhand swing of his blade that nearly caught Shadewa on the nose, but fortunately he was still an inch out of reach. A second swing came and Shadewa raised his sword to block, the two blades meeting.

This elf was stronger than Shadewa had expected, but he managed to keep a firm grip, the two entering a deadlock. Shadewa used all of his strength to resist his opponent, but this man had the heavier blade and body, and was physically stronger, and was slowly pushing Shadewa back.

But the experienced Dunmer swordsman then shoved the hilt of his sword towards his enemies' blade, slamming the wristguard into the flat of the sword and sending it to the side, throwing him off balance, and Shadewa landed a slash on the exposed hamstring of his opponent. The armored elf cried out in pain, and dropped onto one knee, where Shadewa kicked off his helmet, and with one more mighty slash at his now exposed head, decapitated the enemy dark elf, sending his head rolling into the grass.

The one remaining elf of the group, who had helped up the comrade Shadewa had already wounded earlier, looked in terror at his defeated employer, then at Shadewa, who waved his sword in the air to flick the blood off, but did not sheathe it until the elf was hurrying north along the gold road, carrying his injured partner.

The Argonian, who had watched the entire spectacle unfold, was just as astonished as the surviving elf had been. One person had just defeated three opponents all on his own, single-handedly, without so much as a scratch.

Shadewa turned to the Argonian, and she got a closer look at his face. Despite the gentle expression he wore, she saw a face of a very troubled person, and apparently suffered from insomnia, as he bore wrinkly dark circles below his eyes, showing he had not rested well as of late. She had seen this condition many times before…

"Are you alright?" he asked her, breaking her out of her train of thought.

"Huh? Oh, yes… I'm fine," she assured him. "Thank you very much for your help."

"It was my pleasure," he said, bowing respectfully. "They didn't harm you in any way, I hope?"

"No. Fortunately, you came along before they could," replied the Argonian. "Oh, beg your pardon; I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Reltaria, Mage's Guild Healer."

"Well, Reltaria, what brings you out here to the Niben?"

"Actually, I'm out gathering herbs for potions," replied the Healer. "There are lots of ingredients around Lake Rumare but there are some things you can only find here in the Niben, so every now and then, I have to make a trip to gather Alchemical ingredients."

"Ah, that makes sense," stated Shadewa, nodding. "Although, with those Slavers creeping around, this area isn't exactly safe right now. Damn those Telvanni… they always are the first to stir up trouble out of the great houses, all because of their contempt for a unified Empire."

"But you drove them off. I don't…"

"Where there's one, there'll be more," Shadewa interjected. "Oh, beg your pardon… I'm just concerned is all."

"I'm sure once I get to Leyawiin, my Guild-mates will ensure my protection," Reltaria assured him. "I doubt even the Telvanni would be foolish enough to challenge a whole chapter of Mage's just for one slave."

"No," Shadewa agreed, chuckling. "Not even they. As it happens, I am heading towards Leyawiin; I live just outside the city walls. Perhaps I could escort you?"

"I would be glad of your company," Reltaria agreed, bowing politely.

"Then, let us be off," Shadewa stated, and the two began their walk to Leyawiin, conversing all the way.

"I can honestly say, I didn't know the Champion of Cyrodiil was also the one who turned against one of the Great Houses of Morrowind and began freeing Slaves," Reltaria said as the two approached the Leyawiin Gate. "I'd heard rumors that the Champion was a Dunmer, but I didn't think it'd be the same person. I must admit, it's a nice thing to learn."

"What makes you say that?" asked Shadewa.

"Many of my kin unfortunately believe that all Dark Elves are the same; they don't remember the Ebonheart Pact of the Second Era, where the two races were allies, only when the Dunmer enslaved their forebearers," replied Reltaria. "However, if they learn of you, and of the things you've accomplished, perhaps prejudice will cease."

"That, I doubt, I'm afraid," Shadewa stated, disaffirming. "It takes more than the actions of one to change centuries of hatred between two races."

"Maybe so, but it's a start anyway," Reltaria said, in an assuring manner.

They reached the gate, and the Argonian Healer turned to Shadewa. "Well, thank you for escorting me here," she said, gratefully. "I apologize if I was of any inconvenience."

"Not at all, ma'am," Shadewa returned, respectfully. "It is my duty as a knight to be of assistance. To be honest, I enjoyed the journey with you; you were very good company."

"As were you," returned Reltaria, bowing respectfully. "Thank you again. I hope to meet you again."

"Perhaps you can," said Shadewa. "We passed my lodge on the way here; if you wish to visit, you're welcome to, anytime. But, stay away from the border of Morrowind, particularly Cheydinhal, for a while." He turned his gaze to the East. "If the Telvanni were bold enough to come this far into Cyrodiil, there's no telling how many other slavers may be prowling closer to the border."

"I will do so," promised Reltaria. "But I must write a letter to Deetsan, the head of the chapter in Cheydinhal, to not leave the city for a while. I hope it reaches her in time."

"I must head to the Imperial City to speak with Chancellor Ocato," said Shadewa. "The Elder Council has to be informed of this as well and it'll sound better coming from me. He has to step up patrols in that region to keep the slavers across the border, and warn Argonia of the danger as well."

Reltaria nodded. "I think I speak for all Argonians and maybe even some Khajiit when I say thank you, Shadewa," she said.

"Think nothing of it. My people may believe in Slavery, but I don't, and I will not simply let them take slaves from wherever they please, not if I can help it," said Shadewa. "Safe journeys to you, ma'am."

"To you as well, land strider." She bowed once more, before the two headed their separate ways.

As Reltaria entered Leyawiin, she reported to a guard of what had occurred on the road, and the guard promised to inform the captain as soon as possible, as well as have word sent to Bravil via the Black Horse Courier. Reltaria thanked him, and she started making her way through the walled city towards the guild house.

As she did, however, her thoughts went back to Shadewa. Although he had been a sincere, pleasant person, she had a feeling there was more to him. Not in a negative manner, but clearly he was shouldering a heavy burden and containing strong, painful emotions within himself. It was amazing he was as kind as he was while containing such things, as most people would become depressed, solitary, even angry at everything around them. He was a strong-hearted person, but eventually such pain was going to bring harm to him or to others.

"I shall indeed pay a visit soon," she said. "He needs to let those emotions out." She rubbed her chin.

She had to find a way to make him become more open with her, get him to talk about the things that troubled him, which would bring those emotions out. As Kud-Ei would say, 'some ridiculous male thing' for men of any race to hide their true feelings, especially any they felt made them look weak. Warriors were especially bad for this, suppressing the anger or sadness for friends and family they would lose in war, until eventually they would snap, either a result of someone provoking them or the emotions would continue to harden their hearts until eventually, they'd no longer care about anyone, not even themselves. That was the point when some heroes would turn Rogue, or take their own life, no longer caring what became of their lives.

"I may have to be a little unconventional with this one."

Three days later, Shadewa was arriving back at his lodge once more, having returned from the Imperial City. He had left almost immediately after speaking with Reltaria, and was at the city by the following noon. Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long to meet with Chancellor Ocato; he was wandering the halls of the Imperial Palace's first floor just as Shadewa had arrived, seemingly in a dilemma. Shadewa informing him of the Telvanni Slavers didn't help matters for the Chancellor either, but he thanked Shadewa for informing him, and with that the Champion departed.

He strode most of the way back to his lodge, running for a good two hours he even made it to the Old Bridge before the sun had started to set, but despite his great stamina, fatigue was beginning to overtake him. He made his way to the Inn of Ill Omen, renting a room there and sleeping for only six hours before he was back on the road again.

Now, he was home again, with it nearly dusk once more. Unlocking the door to the lodge – evidence enough Mazoga still wasn't there, as she so rarely ever was – and stepping inside. He set his bow and arrows in the closet near the door, but kept his akaviri blade sheathed and on his person. He'd made many enemies, fighting in the Arena, against the Mythic Dawn and in his life back in Morrowind; he didn't feel safe without having a weapon on him at all times.

He smelled something, and then sniffed his shirt, realizing the foul odor was coming from him. He snorted and took off his shirt, tossing it into the laundry bin. He would have to wash them soon, but for now, he headed over to the washbasin stand, soaking his palms and rubbing himself down, getting some of the sweat and grime off of his near black-skinned torso. Someone once mistook him for a burnt human when they saw him without his shirt, owed also to his unusual hair-color, due to how his skin looked like the flesh of burnt meat with its dark color.

He applied a bar of soap to his skin, ridding him of the smell of sweat, rinsed himself and finally dried himself off. Satisfied, he decided to help himself to a bottle of Cyrodiilic Brandy while he settled in, when he heard a knock at his door.

"Wonder who that could be?" he asked, keeping his sword ready, and approaching the door. He opened it to see none other than the Argonian he'd assisted the other day standing there.

"You?" he asked, curiously. "Uh… Reltaria, was it?" She nodded in response. "Hello again. What brings you here?"

"Actually, I was wondering if I might speak with you some more, Shadewa," she replied, gesturing towards the house with her hand. Shadewa didn't notice it but there was a slight glow in her palm as she moved her hand.

He saw no reason to deny her, and stepped aside, allowing her entry. "Can I offer you anything?" he asked. "A drink, perhaps?"

"Certainly," she replied.

"Just some Cyrodiilic Brandy work?"

"That will be fine."

Shadewa walked over to the cupboard near the dining table, opening it and taking out a pair of silver goblets, which he set onto the table and, fetching a bottle of the brandy from the shelf, poured the contents into each goblet, before seating himself in one of the chairs as Reltaria had.

"Thank you," she said politely.

"So, what is it you wanted to ask me about?" Shadewa asked the Healer, taking a sip of his brandy.

"Well, for starters," Reltaria began. "You remember how you were telling me about your deeds back in Morrowind?" He nodded in response to her question. "I was just wondering, how long ago were these deeds?"

"Around… six years now, I suppose, maybe less," replied Shadewa. "Although it still feels fresh in my memory… as if I had only just left that life behind." He shook his head. "Why did you want to know?"

"Mere curiosity," replied Reltaria. "Is there more you can tell me about it?"

"Like what?" asked Shadewa. "I turned against the house to do what I felt was right; there's not much else for me to say."

"I don't really believe that to be true," said Reltaria. "I can tell there is something that troubles you."

Shadewa scowled, and almost yelled for the Argonian to back off from the subject and leave, but he contained himself, and simply let out a long, exasperated sigh. "Reltaria, I can see what you're trying to do. Please, I do not need…"

"Shadewa," she said, a strange allure in her voice as she held her hand towards him. "I am not here to try and pry secrets from you. I am here to help. You are a troubled soul; all I ask is that you open yourself to me, and tell me what it is you feel has condemned you."

She knew… somehow she knew, this Argonian somehow knew of the darkness in Shadewa's mind, how he believed his soul would be cursed to damnation for all that he had done, and she knew that the guilt of it all was weighing on him, heavier than any suit of armor he had ever worn. Yet, somehow, Shadewa felt he could trust Reltaria, and before long, he felt himself speaking, the words that he hoped to never have to confess to anyone leaving his lips.

As he spoke, Reltaria's expression softened, and she watched him, wordlessly, listening to his every word. He told her of his life in the Thieves' Guild, robbing secrets from the other Great Houses, stealing valuable items, once even killing someone who was trying to overthrow the guild. He went on to his deeds as a pirate, telling her of his acts of kidnapping, breaking into the homes of Argonians and Khajiit alike, dragging them kicking and screaming back to his ship, having his crew bludgeon the parents into submission if they tried to stop him from taking them, on some occasions even having to kill the parents because no amount of beating would turn them from trying to save their children. Every time he had to do that, he would retch, over the side of his ship, disgusted with himself but continuing as he was ordered.

Finally, he came to his acts of freeing the slaves, staging incidents at sea, working in collaboration with the Twin Lamps to free slaves, staging raids upon his ship, or even assisting in some raids by telling the leaders of the Twin Lamps where other vessels carrying slaves would be, or the schedules of some Slave Masters, so that the Twin Lamps could sneak into the plantations or auction houses to free those imprisoned there.

But then came the detail of his brother infiltrating his ship, killing half of his crew and taking Shadewa directly to Vivec, where he'd be brought before his parents and judged for his discretions. Arathyn wanting to kill him – his own twin brother, wishing his execution, even willing to do it himself! – but his parents instead exiling him from Morrowind, and using their connections, having him placed in the Imperial Prison, where he remained for five years.

He continued, telling her the story of his actions in the Oblivion Crisis, her eyes never leaving his, her ears taking in every word, but Shadewa finally felt the emotions he'd been hiding for so long revealing themselves, unexpected, swiftly coming free just as he began to talk about Kvatch. Tears began to stream down his cheeks and he nearly fell from his chair sobbing, feelings as if a tsunami of sadness and guilt had just crashed onto him, dragging him into the depths.

Reltaria stood up from her chair, stepping over to him and kneeling down, putting her hands on his, a look of genuine sympathy on her face. Shadewa could not say anymore, all of the emotions he'd kept suppressed for so long now completely boiling over regardless of how hard he tried to keep them contained, not wanting to show any sign of weakness, even though only one pair of eyes witnessed this moment.

Shadewa felt Reltaria urge him to his feet, and he did so, although he felt extremely heavy and barely had the energy to walk. She led him through the doorway into the bedroom, where she laid him down on what she thought was his bed, and pulled the covers over him up to his shoulders. He hid his face below the wool blanket, still crying hard but he was steadily becoming quieter.

Reltaria stayed by his side for well over an hour, her hand stroking his shoulder in a comforting manner until he went completely silent. Peering over, she saw his eyes were closed, his breathing steady, and the tears staining his face beginning to dry.

Reltaria put her hands together, shutting her eyes as she uttered a prayer for Shadewa. "Mara watch over the dreams of this man, Stendarr have mercy upon his weary soul. Let him be at peace," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

With that, she finished her prayer, and seated herself on the other bed, watching him for a while longer before she herself lay down to sleep. "I hope the owner of this bed doesn't mind," she whispered as she shut her eyes.

Shadewa woke up, not knowing how long he slept, nor remembering when exactly it was he fell asleep. He rolled onto his back, peering towards the window next to his bed. The window faced South, so if the sun was still to the East he would see its rays upon the grass and trees outside. On the grass, he saw full illumination, but the trees were completely surrounded with shadow.

It was noon.

The last he could remember, it had been dusk, but he had slept all the way until the following midday! He had never slept this late before, let alone slept for so many long hours! But then, he remembered, he had been speaking to Reltaria, suddenly telling her all about his life, a tale he had not shared with anyone, not even Martin Septim, Count Marius Caro, Mazoga or any member of the Blades. It had been a secret, but for some reason, he could not help but tell everything to that Argonian…

Of course, he thought. She cast a spell on me, made me tell her… how dare she?!

He looked out into the main area of the lodge, and saw Reltaria was still there. Seated at the dining table with a mortar and pestle in her hands, tapping something inside of the bowl, compressing it. Shadewa stood up, and slowly, quietly, approached her, his feet not making a sound as he crept towards her.

A board creaked just as he came up behind her, and she suddenly sprang into alertness, a dagger appearing in her hand as she spun around, only to have her hand caught by Shadewa. "Wha…?" she asked, but then he twisted her around and put her into a chokehold, his arm tightly against her neck.

"What did you do to me last night?!" he demanded. "Put me under a spell, did you? Intending to blackmail me with my life's information?!"

The Argonian growled, and then her right palm, although now held off to her side, gleamed a greenish color. Shadewa suddenly felt all feeling vanishing from his body, his muscles no longer responding and he simply slid off of the Argonian, falling to the floor with a dull thud. Every attempt to move yielded nothing; he was completely paralyzed.

"You should know that a Mage, no matter which kind, is still dangerous even if you come at them from behind," she growled, before she waved her hand towards him again, a purple glow emanating from her palm this time, and suddenly Shadewa was able to move again, the feeling returning to his limbs.

"Paralysis," he grunted. "For what reason… would a healer learn a spell of Paralysis?"

"Surgery, capturing rogue magi, keeping patients from running away before treatment," she glared. "Self-defense."

"It is you who has offended," growled Shadewa. "You cast a Charm spell on me last night, made me open up to you, isn't that right?"

"I did," she affirmed, not even hesitating with her answer.

"Why?" he asked. "Someone hire you for this information, so they could use it against me?"

"No," she stated firmly.

"And why should I believe that?"

"Are all you Blades this paranoid?" she asked, irking an eyebrow.

"We defend the Empire; there's no room for trust," Shadewa retorted.

"Well, I assure you, my intentions were good," Reltaria stated even more firmly this time. "I could see that you needed some counselling, but I knew you would not open up to me willingly, so I had no choice. If I wanted to help you, I had to try something unconventional."

"Help me? With what?" asked Shadewa, getting back to his feet.

"Tell me, how do you feel this day?" she asked, crossing her arms, looking him right in the eye. "And I don't just mean emotionally, but physically as well?"

Shadewa opened his mouth to speak… but paused. Now that he thought about it, he did indeed feel different. His body felt… good, relieved, even lighter. He no longer felt aches and pains that he didn't even realize he had, nor did his body feel like he was carrying an iron anchor on his back. It was as something had lifted his troubles from him.

"You'll also notice, there are no longer bags under your eyes," Reltaria pointed out. "Your contained emotions were causing you to suffer insomnia, coupled with minor depression. You held those emotions contained for so long your own physical health was deteriorating. That is why I had to use magic, to help you let those emotions out, before they did you even more harm."

Shadewa felt under one eye, finding the skin there smooth, not wrinkled and droopy like he remembered. He thought it had been normal for him, but it seems not. "Just… how long did I sleep?" asked Shadewa.

"At least fifteen hours," replied Reltaria.

He looked at her in astonishment, and saw she was now grinning, still standing where she had been, arms crossed, watching him as if waiting for something… then, he knew just what it was.

"I… suppose I owe you an apology…" he began, but she interjected.

"Suppose?" she asked smugly. "You put your arm around my neck and almost choked me."

"Alright, I DO owe you an apology," he closed his eyes and bowed his head respectfully. "Forgive me. I was wrong to jump to conclusions…"

"Apology accepted," she said. "I don't usually resort to using Charm spells unless I'm dealing with a very stubborn person. I'm not saying you're stubborn, but I knew you didn't want to tell anyone about your previous life."

"But it seems doing so turned out to be a good thing," said Shadewa.

"Counselling is part of my work as a Healer," said Reltaria. "Some wounds cannot be mended with magic or medicine, and I consider it a Healer's duty to heal any wound, even those that cannot be seen."

"You are golden-hearted indeed, m'lady," said Shadewa. "Words cannot express how much gratitude I have. But I'll start with pay; how much do you usually charge for counselling services?"

The Argonian suddenly burst out laughing, surprising the Dark Elf. "Did… I say something amusing?"

"I do not charge for counselling," the Argonian stated. "Especially not when the client did not ask for it. My counselling services are complimentary." She smiled. "Although even if I did… I don't think I would have charged you anyway."

"What? Why not?" asked Shadewa.

"Most people don't accept that they need counselling in the first place, so getting them to pay for it would be impossible anyway," explained Reltaria. "But helping others is what I like doing, especially for those who deserve it. You're a hero to all of Tamriel, and certainly to a lot of slaves you freed from Morrowind. There is no malice in your heart, and therefore no reason that you should have to endure such suffering."

Shadewa was left absolutely speechless, unsure how to respond to the kind words of this Argonian woman who he had only met a few days earlier, treating him as if she'd known him all her life. Nobody had ever shown him such kindess, not even when he was a child. His brother was always gentle with him throughout their childhood years, but he was the only one who ever seemed to acknowledge Shadewa as family, and treat him well, until Shadewa turned against his families' beliefs and made a great decision of his own.

He felt warm tears streaming down his face again. Reltaria spotted them instantly, and took a step towards him. "What is it? Did I say something wrong?" she asked, an apologetic look on her face.

"Oh no, quite the opposite," replied Shadewa. "The last one to ever say something like that to me was Martin Septim, when he called me a good friend in the short time he'd known me. Nobody else, not one person, has ever said the words you have. This feeling… I don't even know what it is… but it feels good."

Reltaria smiled and walked up to him, putting her hands on his shoulders. "It's called happiness, Shadewa," she said. "And contentment. Your burdens have been eased, and I was happy to be able to help you. You've accomplished much in your life, endured much, shouldering a great deal of problems all on your own."

"But thanks to you, those problems have been lifted… I no longer feel despair thinking back on my life, now that I have shared that trouble with another," said the dark elf. "I did not realize merely talking to someone else could give me so much strength… I feel like a new person."

"I see a new person too," said Reltaria. "Someone more full of life, and more confident. This is the kind of thing that drives me to help others, to see them become so reinvigorated they do not even recognize themselves."

"That was all you're doing, my friend," he stated. "That is… if you do not mind me considering you as a friend, not merely as a Healer I met, that changed my life, made me a whole new man…"

"You're the person you are meant to be," she returned. "And I would be honored if you would consider me your friend, Shadewa."

Shadewa said nothing more, simply looking into Reltaria's eyes for a moment, before the two of them embraced one another in a gentle, friendly manner. This was answer enough for both of them; it was as if this bond had been decided by fate. It felt right to both of them, despite in-born prejudices from both their heritage towards the other, this friendship felt to be something that was just meant to be.

For the first time, Shadewa looked forward to experiencing the future, wondering what hand fate would deal him next, now that it had finally dealt him one he could be happy with. Perhaps this was a new beginning for Shadewa Andalara...


	2. Chaos in Kvatch

The Elder Scrolls Adventures

Volume 2:

Chaos in Kvatch

Several days passed since Shadewa and Reltaria had first met. She had stayed at the lodge with him for a while, talking with him by day, and ensuring he slept soundly during then night. By the third day since their meeting, Shadewa felt healthier than he had in years, and even treated himself to a delicious meal along with Reltaria.

However, by noon that day, the new Black Horse Courier had arrived; a written parchment telling of news across the empire, delivered by the fastest horse riders in all of Cyrodiil, using Cheydinhall black horses, the namesake of the business. The article told of trouble in Kvatch; since the destruction of the city during the Oblivion Crisis, the people had worked tirelessly to reconstruct their home, and had made great progress; they had already finished repairs to the castle, rebuilt the arena, and even managed to get a few shops open.

However, repairs had come to a stop; the report told of Daedra being sighted; survivors that had hidden after the collapse of their gate and the slaughtering of their kin in the ruined city. It had been thought that the last of the Daedra had been driven out, but it seemed some stragglers had managed to hide amidst the city wreckage and were now emerging to begin their attack anew. In Kvatch's current state they'd never be able to drive off the evil demons.

"I have to go help," Shadewa stated.

"I will go with you," said Reltaria, firmly.

"That is unnecessary," returned the dark elf. "I don't want to interrupt your guild business."

"I've already finished everything I needed to," said Reltaria. "Now the only thing for me to do is accompany you to the Kvatch and lend some help in whatever has transpired in that city."

Shadewa saw no point in arguing with the Argonian; she had made up her mind. He nodded to her. "Alright," he said. "I have an extra horse you can use."

She nodded in return. "Very well," she said. "Let's be off."

"In a moment; I just need to get my armour," returned Shadewa.

Reltaria excused herself, and stepped out of the room, gathering her alchemical tools and putting them into her satchel before reaching for her staff, which was leaned against the wall by the table, and waited by the front door.

Shadewa took several minutes to finished putting on his armour; the cuirass was tricky for one to do by themselves, but he managed, and then put on his leather boots, chainmail gloves and helmet, and picked up his shield, which was a Leyawiin shield normally only used by the city watch of the town, and an Akaviri sword. Although most of the Blades preferred using heavy armour, Shadewa felt a lot more at home in light armour; although he had taken some heavy armour training, enough that he could wear it comfortably, he relied much more on his speed and agility than his armour; this was mostly to defend him from attacks from behind or strikes he could not evade, and so he had no real need for heavy armour.

He also grabbed a quiver of steel-tipped arrows, slinging its strap across his chest and shoulder, and holstering his bow in the leather pocket on its side. It had been a while since the elf had worn his armour; to most it would feel cumber-some. But thanks to the burdens Reltaria had alleviated from his mind before, the armour felt weightless to him.

He loved the feeling.

With everything ready, he stepped out of the room and turned for the main door.

Reltaria looked over his armoured form. "That cuirass... it's from Kvatch," she said.

Shadewa nodded. "It belonged to the guard captain Savlian Matius," replied the dark elf. "When I helped break the siege of Kvatch he gave it to me; he said he was tired of fighting."

"Ah yes, Matius," said Reltaria. "Have you heard the people of Kvatch are putting his name forward to become the new count of Kvatch?"

"I had, actually," replied Shadewa. "Although I also heard he was not keen on the notion."

"He isn't," confirmed Reltaria, laughing lightly. "To go from a warrior career to a political one, who would want that? Nevertheless he's getting a great deal of pressure; everyone turns to him for leadership, and the Elder Council seems keen on following the wishes of Kvatch's people."

"Then the position would suit him," stated Shadewa. "Every city needs a leader it can rely on, and Matius proved his reliability during the invasion."

"He seems like a good man," said Reltaria.

"You'll find fewer humans of a more noble mind," agreed Shadewa. "But I digress; we should be on our way now while the morning is young; we don't want to be on the Gold Road in the dark."

"Agreed. If we can move quickly enough we should reach Skingrad before the sun sets, and set out for Kvatch the next day."

With that, the two stepped out of the lodge; Shadewa locked the door to the small house, and then stepped over to the miniature stable next to the lodge; the stable had not been there originally, but Shadewa had saved up some money and had it built so that he would not have to run over to Leyawiin just to pick up his horse.

In the stable were two horses, both of them white. Shadewa untied both from their stalls and worked on saddling them.

"These are beautiful horses," complimented Reltaria. "You care for them yourself?"

"When I am here, yes," replied Shadewa. "I have stable-boy come by to shoe, wash and feed them while I'm gone; most of the credit goes to him."

"I see," said Reltaria.

Shadewa, after saddling both horses, led one over to Reltaria, passing the reins to her. "Have you ridden a horse before?"

"Yes," she replied, petting the neck of the steed. "I admit I have not ridden in a while, but I think I can remember how."

Shadewa nodded to her, before hoisting himself onto his own horse, swinging his leg over the horses back before lowering himself down into the saddle, the horse nickering slightly once his weight came down on its back; it had been a while since Shadewa had ridden fully-armoured, so the horse was readjusting to the added mass of its rider. Reltaria followed suite; her robe made it harder for her to sit in the saddle, and certainly less-than comfortable with her clothing scrunched up under her, but she made do.

With both securely seated in their saddles, they started on their way, riding north up the road, wondering just what they would find in the ruined city of Kvatch...

They were less than a mile from Skingrad when the storm hit. Leaving their horses at the eastern stable, paying the stable keeper extra to move their horses over to the western stable when the rain stopped, before they ran into the city, down the muddy middle street heading for the West Weald Inn

Along the way, Reltaria tripped over something; a rock by how hard it was, and she lost her balance, falling onto the muddy street. "OOF!" she gasped, her staff clattering noisily to the cobblestone, which succeeded in catching Shadewa's attention.

Shadewa stopped his run and looked back, seeing that Reltaria had fallen. He ran back over to her and helped her to her feet. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she replied. "Just fell."

Shadewa helped her to her feet and grabbed her staff for her as they continued forward, hurrying to get out of the downpour. They finally made it to the inn; by this time they were drenched and exhausted; especially Shadewa, due to his over-armour surcoat getting filled up with water, doubling its weight by the time they arrived.

They stood on the porch of the doorway for a moment, Reltaria trying to wring out her robe as much as possible so that she wouldn't track water into the building. The two stepped inside quickly, and shut the door, panting from the exhausting run to the inn.

Shadewa looked at Reltaria, looking over her mud-encrusted robe and face. "You need a bath, my friend," he joked. She smiled weakly in response, blushing slightly.

The proprietor, Erina Jeranus, saw the two as they came in. "Oh my; you two got caught in the worst of that storm," she called over to them as they approached.

Shadewa nodded to her, removing his helmet and tucking it under his arm. "Yes we did," he said. "We weren't expecting it to hit so hard before we made it to Skingrad." He produced some gold coins from the satchel on his belt. "Do you have a couple of rooms available?"

"I'm afraid I only have one right now, but it has two beds," she replied. "Twenty gold per night."

Shadewa looked at Reltaria, who shrugged; she didn't mind sharing a room. Shadewa turned back to Erina. "We'll take it," he replied. "Is there somewhere we can wash our clothes too?"

"At the end of the hall upstairs; there's a wash closet with a washboard and tub. I'll have some water boiled and brought up to it," replied Erina. "Oh, and your room is the first on the right at the top of the stairs."

"Thank you," replied Shadewa. "I apologize for the mess we've tracked inside."

"In weather like this, it's unavoidable," assured Erina. "I'm sure there'll be more of it before the night is out."

Shadewa thanked her again, and the two proceeded upstairs to their room. Shadewa proceeded to remove his armour, setting his helmet on the table first, followed by his gauntlets, and then after removing his belt and sword, he unfastened his cuirass, taking it off and draping it over a chair –which promptly fell to the floor under the weight of the chainmail and soaked gambeson, so he put it on the flat of the chair instead after standing it upright again, and then unfastened the chain greaves, letting them slip off of his legs.

He sighed with relief once the excess weight of his armour was off. "Much better," he whispered.

He had not noticed Reltaria had stepped out of the room until he'd turned, finding her missing from the room. He guessed she went to wash her robe, and so he proceeded to finish with his armour, separating the chain shirt and surcoat and hanging them up on a nearby rack to dry. Now in only his under-armour trousers, he picked up a cloak hanging from that same rack to cover up his torso, maintaining modesty, and headed back downstairs.

He approached Erina with another handful of coins, buying some food and drink from her and then walking back upstairs, stepping back into their room and placing the food on the table. Then, casting a glance at his armour, he noticed his surcoat had some mud on it as well; cursing he picked it off of the wall and carried it with him up to the wash closet mentioned by Erina.

He entered the small room to find Reltaria in there, still washing her robe, dressed only in her undergarments, revealing the pale scales. She looked up as Shadewa walked in, and he blushed slightly. "Oh, sorry; I forgot you were already in here," he said.

"It's... fine," she assured him. "If you need to wash your surcoat, come in. I don't mind."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded to him, and scooted over so he could find room at the wash tub as well. Shadewa had not noticed himself looking over her figure until he was almost standing next to her, and corrected his gaze, focusing on the tub and a washboard in front of him. He hadn't noticed until her robe was off but she had a shapely figure, and although it didn't seem right to him, he found her form... pleasing to the eye.

He shook his head to clear it; for shame, thinking about such things when he hadn't known her for very long! Besides... he was a Dark Elf, and she was an Argonian; neither of their races would approve of such a thing, especially not other Argonians, particularly ones who would hate the Dunmer for the enslavement of their race, nor would Dunmer who kept slaves look kindly on it; to them, the Argonians were not worthy of fondness or affection, they were only for the use of the Dark Elves as they saw fit. Extremists of either side would see it as criminal.

No, he thought. Better the two just stayed friends.

"Shadewa?"

Reltaria's voice shattered his trance-like thoughts. "Hmm? Oh, sorry," he said. "Was... a little distant."

"Old memories?" she asked.

"Yes," he lied, not even a second of hesitation in his voice, trying to avoid her suspicion. "Memories of my brother, mostly, of another time between us two, happier times."

"You two used to be close?"

"Once, yes," replied Shadewa. "I idolized my brother for his talents; he was an amazing sorcerer and an even greater warrior." Although unintended at first, Shadewa did indeed find himself thinking of his elder brother, Arathyn. "I never really studied magic, myself. I always preferred learning the skills of a merchant, including sailing. Politics and warfare were not my field –although you wouldn't believe such considering the fact I fought in the Oblivion Crisis in countless battles and skirmishes."

"Where did you learn your combat skills then?"

"Arathyn and I both trained in swordplay under the same tutor; I was his sparring partner regularly," replied Shadewa. "And of course my time sailing, I often had to fight pirates or..." He paused.

"Argonians and Khajiit," finished Reltaria.

He frowned. "Yes," he replied. "And members of the Twin Lamps once or twice. I had much experience in swordplay by the time I turned on House Redoran but I would never have been able to defeat Arathyn then. Even as experienced as I am now I have doubts I'd be able to face him if he were to come after me."

"What exactly happened to him?" Reltaria inquired. "That night we spoke, you mentioned he had left on a trip of some kind for a while, and when he came back he was different."

"I don't know what changed him, exactly," returned Shadewa, solemnly. "All I know is that before he left, he was the same competitive twin I was born alongside, but when he returned, he was... colder, arrogant, and many times I swear he had become even more powerful. I saw him fight a common street thug in Balmora when he and I were sent to meet with a representative of House Hlaalu; he killed the thug effortlessly with just a gesture of his hand, igniting him; no pity, no remorse, but he watched the corpse of the thug for a while." He scowled. "With a look of satisfaction."

Reltaria shivered. "I don't think I could face someone like that," she said.

"Hopefully you'll never have to," returned Shadewa. "I know he wanted me dead after he discovered my... mutiny towards House Redoran, but he could've easily come and killed me in prison. If he hasn't come for me yet, I don't think he will."

"That's good," said Reltaria, relieved. Then, she seemed to have a thought about something. "Shadewa, may I ask you something?"

"Certainly; what is it?"

"Do you... would you mind teaching me swordplay?" she asked.

Shadewa looked at her in surprise. "Swordplay? What for?"

"Well you see, even though I've trained in Restoration, Illusion and a bit of Mysticism and Alteration magic, I have always fallen behind in Destruction Magic," she replied. "The few spells I can use from there have always protected me from bandits in small groups, but they drain me much faster than my healing or illusions; I run out of Magicka too quickly. That's why I carry that dagger, but I'm not very skilled with it."

He smiled. "Of course I'll teach you," he promised. "But we'll have to find you a lighter sword."

"What would you suggest?" asked the Argonian.

"Unfortunately, I didn't bring it with me, but I still have the cutlass I used as a sailor," he replied. "It always served me well; it's light, fluid, and doesn't require much effort to use."

"Sounds perfect," she said. "We'll have to remember to retrieve that when we get back to Leyawiin."

Shadewa nodded in agreement.

After washing their uniforms the two retired back to their room, enjoying a good meal before they went to bed, and slept through the night until the large hours of the morning; they had no reason to hurry, as Kvatch was less than six hours ride away from Skingrad; they would be there long before nightfall. This time Reltaria helped Shadewa into his armour, quickening the process tremendously, and after gathering up the rest of their belongings, they proceeded downstairs, thanking Erina on their way out, and stepped out into the streets of Skingrad, where they proceeded to the west gate, picked up their horses and road west along the Gold Road, to Kvatch.

Their ride was fairly uneventful; they spent most of the way exchanging stories. Or rather, Shadewa listened while Reltaria spoke, telling about her 'trials' to earn recommendation to the Arcane University in the Imperial City, during which Shadewa learned that Reltaria lived in the waterfront of the city, as a healer for the poorer citizens that made their home there.

"My recommendation in Chorrol, that was," she paused. "Oh, at least six years ago now; I was training as a healer since childhood but that one was easily the one I'll remember for all my life. I was out one night gathering herbs to brew potions out in the Colovian Highlands, when I heard a shriek. I ran to investigate, and saw this small Argonian girl being attacked by this rather large man carrying a spiked club. I don't know why he was after her, but I wasn't going to let it happen.

"I hit him with a paralysis spell and took the girl in my arms, carrying her far away from him, and returned to Chorrol. There I met her mother, the owner of Northern Goods and Trade, and learned that the daughter, Dar-Ma, had run off while her mother was working, and got lost in the Highlands. Thank the Gods I found her."

"Impressive," complimented Shadewa. "Ironically I too have rescued Dar-Ma once before."

"You know her?"

"That I do," replied Shadewa. "I met her after I left the Imperial Prison, and not long after I rescued her from this cult in Hackdirt; she had gone there to make a delivery but hadn't come back. Ironically the Cultists were large men who wielded clubs as well; perhaps there's a connection."

"They operate from beneath Hackdirt?" asked Reltaria, and she scowled. "They should be arrested and executed by the Legion."

"No need," replied Shadewa. "I practically wiped out the town while rescuing Dar-Ma; every citizen there came after me when I set her free. One by one I was forced to kill them all." He hung his head slightly. "It was a massacre but they left me no choice."

"It may seem odd of a Healer to say this but they deserved it for what they did, not just once, but twice, to the same innocent child," said Reltaria. "Nevertheless, you fought in self-defense; you have nothing to be sorry for. The Legion would've likely been forced to do the same."

"I know," returned Shadewa. "But still... I've taken so many lives already, some of them innocent. Is there really any difference between me and the criminals I've slain?"

Reltaria's hand came up unexpectedly, and Shadewa felt a sharp pain as she slapped him; he reeled back in surprise, more shocked than actually hurt by her strike and almost falling off of his horse in the process. "What in the name of Akatosh was that for?!"

"For talking like such a fool," said Reltaria. "The difference between you and those criminals you speak of is that you have a conscience; you know it's not right to kill for any reason, not unless you have no choice, while they will take lives for wealth, power, even just for enjoyment if they are of a twisted mind. You are none of those things; you don't take lives of your own choosing and the crimes you claim to have committed were the work of your House Redoran, not of your own decision." She turned to him, looking him straight in the eye. "You are not an evil person, Shadewa; the fact you regret the things you've done should be proof enough."

He heard her words ringing like bells in his head, but part of him wanted to push them away; she was surely only saying this out of kindness... no, she's not like that. Perhaps what she was saying was true... perhaps he was not at fault for his actions, but he still believed he needed to be redeemed; even if they weren't of his own choosing, they were still committed by him, and that was something no amount of kindness from this selfless Argonian riding next to him could ever convince him of otherwise.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I won't bring it up again. I still feel I must redeem myself somehow, but I believe what you're saying; that I am not at fault. Nevertheless, the wrongs I committed must one day be righted."

"You don't feel that your actions in the Oblivion Crisis were enough?" inquired Reltaria. "You didn't just save Cyrodiil, Shadewa, you saved all of Tamriel, and every other nation of the world. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"It does," replied Shadewa. "But it just doesn't feel like it's enough." He shook his head. "I don't know what will be enough... but I will know when it happens; of that I'm certain."

Reltaria sighed. Shadewa wasn't going to listen, but at least he had a goal in mind for himself, a goal that would keep him on the right path, even if not the happiest one possible for him. He deserved better, she felt.

Finally, the two were in sight of Kvatch, the tall, lone mountain ridge that the city rested upon rising up above the horizon. But the clouds above it were dark, and thunder boomed in the distance, audible even from this far away. "It always seems to be night time and storming over Kvatch, even after the Oblivion Crisis ended," said Shadewa. "I suspect this reappearance of the Daedra there is somehow connected."

"I suspect you're right," said Reltaria. "And this stormy weather has made reconstruction of the city much more difficult, but they've made good progress."

"Indeed; the people of Kvatch are as resilient as they ever were," said Shadewa. "Let's get over there and see what the damage is."

Once the two had neared the Kvatch camp, which still stood at the foot of the mountain, they saw an armoured figure heading up the path towards the city, a very large, armoured figure, but they didn't get the chance to identify him before he was out of sight, heading up the trail. Shadewa and Reltaria dismounted their horses, tying them to a tree just outside of the camp, and approached.

Amidst the group of people in the camp, Shadewa spotted a familiar, tan-skinned Imperial standing just barely in sight; he was surrounded by people who seemed to be barraging him with questions; he eventually scowled and pushed his way out of the crowd. "I told you already, we are working as fast as we can!" he bellowed back.

He nearly ran headlong into Shadewa before he noticed he Dunmer and successfully stopped himself. "Oh, excuse me, sir; I..." he paused, and his eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, you're...!"

"It has been a while, Captian Matius," Shadewa said, greeting the man with a warm smile.

"By the Nine... Shadewa Andalara!" he laughed and clapped the Dunmer on the shoulder. "So the Hero of Kvatch returns when the city is once again in need... or do you prefer 'Champion of Cyrodiil' now?"

"Heard about that, did you?"

"All of Tamriel knows, my friend," Savlian Matius returned. Matius, the former Captain of the Guard for the Kvatch City Watch, had fought alongside Shadewa in the liberation of the city when he had come here searching for the last heir to the Septim throne, Martin. At the time Martin had been a simple Priest; imagine the surprise Matius had felt when he had learned the true identity of the city's Priest of Akatosh.

"So, Captain..." began Shadewa.

"It's... Count, now," said Matius.

"Pardon?"

"The Elder Council finally broke me," he jested. "They asked me to become the new Count of Kvatch once she was rebuilt."

"I had heard you were in line for the position," said Shadewa.

"Yes... but I didn't want it," replied Matius. "I'm just an old guardsman; being a political figure isn't really something I ever felt I was meant to do."

"But you are a leader," Shadewa reminded. "The people look to you for help, and after defending them as you did, they look upon you as a protector. Maybe you are not a politician but this is the will of the people, and if their wishes are met, the Empire will heal much faster."

"I... suppose you are right," admitted Matius. He then turned to Reltaria. "Ah, but where are my manners? Who is this young lady you have brought with you?"

Shadewa turned to the Argonian. "This is Reltaria, a healer from the Imperial City and a member of the Mage's Guild. Reltaria, this is Savlian Matius."

"A pleasure to meet you, sir," she said politely, bowing her head.

"Any friend of the Hero of Kvatch is welcome here," stated Matius. "Although... I hate to ask this out of the blue, but do you suppose I could ask for your services? When we uncovered these new Daedra, many people were injured by them."

"Of course," Reltaria accepted. "I am happy to help."

"Where did you find those Daedra?" asked Shadewa.

"Well as I'm sure you heard, we managed to reconstruct most of the Arena," explained Matius. "However, we were clearing some debris from over the entrance leading to the bloodworks below, and then the Daedra emerged; over twelve of them, mostly Scamps and Clannfears, but they surprised the workers and many were hurt, especially when a particularly big one came out too."

"How big?" asked Shadewa.

"As large as a Minotaur," replied Matius. "And with a head and teeth like a crocodile."

"A Daedroth," said Shadewa. "Your men are lucky; those monsters are very powerful, and not easy to kill either. Their skin is as hard as stone and their jaws are as strong as a bear trap."

"Damned monsters," growled Matius.

"Also," continued Shadewa. "When we arrived, we saw someone heading up the path to the city; he didn't look like City Watch, but he looked well-equipped. Can you possibly tell us who that was?"

"Ah, you must be referring to Gileroth," replied Matius.

"Gileroth?" repeated Reltaria

"He's a knight... well, sort of a knight, from Skyrim," explained Matius. "He has quite the reputation as a warrior, and when he arrived here at Kvatch offering to assist us, I was more than happy to accept. Although when he chose to ascend up to the city on his own, I was skeptical; I offered to give him some troops to accompany him but he assured me he didn't need any help. I can only hope he knows what he's doing with those monsters."

"He shall not fight alone," assured Shadewa. "I will head up there and assist him." The dunmer turned to Reltaria. "Stay down here with Matius and heal some of the wounded; I'll meet with this 'Gileroth' person; if he's as strong as Cap... Count Matius claims, he and I should be able to handle this well enough."

"Be careful, Shadewa," pleaded Reltaria. "There's no telling what else you will find up there."

"Do not fear for me my friend," he put a hand on her shoulder. "I have no intention of dying yet." With that, he let his hand slip from her shoulder and strode for the path, following the paved road up the mountain to the city, drawing forth his sword from its scabbard.

Shadewa stepped through the open gate into the city; not four steps in his was buffeted by wind and rain, forcing him to raise his shield, blocking the rain so he could open his eyes and look around. Kvatch looked nothing like it had when he was last here; scaffolds marking construction zones were all around, and the fallen, upper-half of the chapel of Akatosh's tower, was no longer lying in the street. Much of the city had been cleared, but thanks to the weather it suffered constantly, it was not yet rebuilt, and it still had a long way to go.

Shadewa searched the area for any sign of Gileroth. He could not see the warrior, but he spotted the half-finished Arena towards the southern end of the city. Matius had said that was where the Daedra had been hiding; it was as good a place as any to start looking. Keeping his sword and shield held and readied for an attack, he began to make his way towards the arena.

The half-finished building felt ominous to him as he approached, and brought back memories; Shadewa had fought in the Arena in the Imperial City, and even succeeded in attaining the rank of Grand Champion after defeating a powerful half-orc known as Agronak Gro-Malog, The Gray Prince. Shadewa had helped Agronak learn his true heritage, but the Orc had not liked what Shadewa had learned for him; the half-orc's other half was Vampire.

Agronak had begged Shadewa to kill him in the ring, not even trying to fight back in the process. But Shadewa reminded Agronak of what he had told the Dunmer when they first met; about the people needing a hero. _"You always said you'd be glad to oblige the people, to be their hero,_" Shadewa had told him. _"Do you want the people to see their hero surrender his life to anyone? To contradict everything he's promised them? Stand and fight; let them always remember you as they know you!"_

Agronak had gone silent in that moment, listening to the roars of the crowds; most of them had been cheering his name, not Shadewa's. And with that, Agronak thanked Shadewa for reminding him why he had become the grand champion, and the two fought to the height of their abilities.

Shadewa had nearly died in that battle, but in the end, his sword pierced Agronak's chest, and with a final farewell from the half-orc, he let himself pass, and Shadewa, known as The Black Arrow in the arena, was declared the new Grand Champion; a title he resigned from not long after, feeling nothing but discontent for how he had gained the position.

Shadewa had fought in the arena for spending money, to begin his new life; he didn't want that wealth to be earned only in blood money. Rumour had it the new grand champion was the biggest, strongest Argonian that Tamriel had ever seen, known as the Red Hammer. Beyond that, he knew little, as he hadn't been back to the arena since forfeiting his position as Grand Champion.

Keeping his blade tightly gripped in his hand, Shadewa walked slowly into the half-finished structure, searching for any signs of danger. Then, not four steps in, he saw one; a Scamp, the smallest of all Daedra but vicious little creatures, fighting with claws and some bigger ones even used forms of magic, and always fought in a group.

But this one was not only alone, it was already dead. Cut clean in half by a blade, its legs and torso lying separately on the arena floor. Shadewa grimaced at the sight; it seemed that Sir Gileroth had already begun his work. Shadewa glanced around the arena a bit more but saw nothing else in sight. No other daedra, and no sign of the Nord, Gileroth.

Shadewa exited through the still open back-wall of the arena, coming to a more open area. He sheathed his sword and drew his bow, notching an arrow and surveying the streets. At first he saw no sign of anymore Daedra or the Nord he had come here to assist, but listening carefully he could hear the sound of armoured footsteps; metal on stone, an unmistakable sound, and the sign that Sir Gileroth was nearby.

Following the sound, Shadewa strode up the street, bow and notched arrow still held, watching expectantly for the source of the sound. And then, as he passed the bridge leading over to Castle Kvatch, he heard the sound of an inhuman shriek coming from the castle courtyard; he sprinted across the bridge, running through the gatehouse and into the courtyard, finding a cluster of Scamps and Clannfears rushing at a Nord, covered head-to-toe in Steel Armor wielding a Silver Claymore; likely he was accustomed to fighting ghosts and vampires as well as other opponents, as there was no other reason to carry silver weapons but to kill enemies that steel could not harm.

Daedra were no such enemy, though; with a mighty swing of his sword, the Nord took off the head of a Clannfear charging at him, the beaked mouth of the lizard-like demon stuck open in a permanent, silent shriek as its head fell to the ground. A second swing of the sword repeated this to a pair of oncoming scamps, but the next one, a much larger Clannfear, was too near for him to swing again; it tackled into him with its large, oddly shaped head, and sent the warrior tumbling off of his feet, hitting the cobble-stone pavement with a clamour.

The Clannfear advanced on its fallen prey along with the three remaining Scamps, the former of the two stepping on the Nord's chestplate; he was pinned, and though he tried to strike the demon with his sword, it was too near for him to get enough momentum to crack its skull. Then, as it opened its beak-like mouth to bite him, an arrow stuck into its neck; the demon shrieked and reeled away from the arrow's impact, slamming into one of the Scamps. A second arrow soon followed, this one striking the Daedra through its spine.

With the Clannfear beaten, the last two Scamps, the third having fallen from the Clannfear running into it and still working to stand up again, advanced on the Nord. He swung his claymore again, not inflicting any damage but the whirring of it slicing through the air made them back off. Hurriedly the armoured warrior rolled onto his front and pushed himself up to his feet, swinging his sword once more as the two scamps advanced again.

Their second attack would be their last; the two were disembowled by one more sweep of the Nord's greatsword, and swiftly fell to the ground, utterly defeated. The third scamp was on its feet now and rushed at the warrior from the side, only for yet another arrow to soar in, strike it in the chest, and send it falling to the ground, convulsing a bit before dying.

Shadewa lowered his bow and slowly approached the Nord. "Are you alright, Sir Gileroth?" he inquired.

"Yes, I... wait, how do you know who I am?" the knight returned.

"Captain Matius told me," replied Shadewa. "I came up here to assist you."

"As hard as it is for me to admit this I am happy you did," admitted Gileroth as he removed his helmet, shaking free a head of lengthy, straight hair. "You have my thanks; had you not intervened that lizard-like Daedra would've eaten my eyes out."

"You are welcome," returned Shadewa. "My name is Shadewa Andalara; it is a pleasure to meet you."

"The same to you," said Gileroth. "Shadewa, is it? The very same, famous Champion I have heard much about?"

Shadewa nodded. "That I am," confirmed the Dunmer. "I see my reputation has already extended to Skyrim."

"I mean no offense when I say this, but when I heard there was a new Champion of Cyrodiil, I wasn't expecting them to be a Dark Elf," admitted Gileroth. "I figured that someone more local to Cyrodiil, namely an Imperial, would be the Champion."

"A common mistake," assured Shadewa.

"I suppose it should not surprise me that much," said Gileroth. "The Count of Cheydinhal is a Dark Elf as well and he earned that position; it makes sense another one could earn a role such as yours as well... I'm sorry, did that come out wrong?"

"No, I know what you meant," the elf assured him again. "Yes; I earned the position. But, story for another time perhaps; I believe there may still be some Daedra here in the city, as well as whomever it was that summoned them here."

"You don't believe they're just an aftermath of the Siege of Kvatch?" asked Gileroth.

Shadewa shook his head. "It has been almost a half-year since the city was sieged, and I personally helped the guards clear out most of the Daedra. If any had been left here since then, they would never have survived this long; even a Daedra has to eat or sleep eventually, and they would have come out in order to hunt for food. So, whosoever summoned them here must still be somewhere nearby."

"You've suspected this since before you even came here, haven't you?" asked Gileroth.

"That I have," confirmed Shadewa. "Considering the Daedra we've seen, my first guess is a member of the Mythic Dawn, a remnant of the devoted to Mankar Camoran, seeking to finish what the rest started. Another possibility is a rogue Summoner from the Mage's Guild. Either way if they summoned the Daedra here they can't be too far away."

"Alright," said Gileroth. "Since you've got a bow, I'll take point; you watch our backs and cover me if we find anymore trouble."

"A sound plan," said Shadewa. "Cap...I mean, Count Matius said the Daedra originally appeared from the Bloodworks of the Arena; I passed through the arena on the way here but didn't go down. We should double-back and go check it out; if that's where they came out perhaps their means of doing so may be found there."

"Also a sound plan," complimented Gileroth. "Let's go."

Moving aside some excess rubble the Dunmer and Nord found their way to the entrance to the bloodworks of the arena, descending down a set of steep stairs, coming to an iron-framed door partially open, leading beneath the arena ground. Shadewa entered first, peering inside, but it was dark. "Damn... can barely see," he said.

"Have a torch or anything?" Gileroth inquired.

"No, unfortunately," replied Shadewa. "I should have asked Reltaria to come up here with me after all; she could light up this room with magic."

"Perhaps you should run back to get her?" suggested Gileroth.

"I may have to," replied Shadewa. "If there is a Summoner down here as I suspect, we may need her magic anyway."

"Anyone I know?"

The familiar voice caught the attention of the two; they looked up the stairs to see an Argonian descending down the stairs towards them, staff in hand.

"What're you doing up here?" asked Gileroth. "it's dangerous here in this city, miss; you should not..."

"Easy, Gileroth," interjected Shadewa. "That is Reltaria."

"She's... an Argonian?" asked Gileroth.

"Is that a problem?" asked the healer.

"Oh no! Not a problem!" The Nord exclaimed quickly. "It's just... I haven't... I mean it's uncommon..."

"For an Argonian and a Dark Elf to be travelling together?" Shadewa finished for the Nord.

"Y...yes... forgive me if it sounds rude."

"It does, kind of," admitted Reltaria. "But it is not unexpected for you to be surprised."

"That makes twice you've been rather racial-expectant," said Shadewa. "First you expected the Champion of Cyrodiil to be an Imperial, not a Dark Elf, and now this. With a name like 'Reltaria' what did you think she was, a Breton?"

"Actually I thought the name was Altmer..."

"Altmer?" echoed Reltaria, bursting out laughing.

"High Elves have no names such as that!" added Shadewa, also laughing.

Gileroth scowled, but didn't say anything else, clearly not wanting to make a fool of himself again.

Shadewa turned to Reltaria after he stopped laughing. "But, back to the matter at hand; we need your help," he said. "Do you know any Light Spells?"

"I do," confirmed Reltaria.

"Can you cast one into here? It's too dark for us to see without some kind of light source," replied Shadewa.

"Of course but, what are you looking for under the arena?"

"Matius said that the Daedra came out from under the Arena, from the bloodworks," explained Shadewa. "I think that whoever or whatever called them here is down there as well, as I am positive these are not Daedra left behind from the Siege of Kvatch a half-year ago."

"I suspected something similar," said Reltaria. "I don't know any light source spells, but I can cast light spells on you two so that you emit light yourselves; not exactly useful for stealth, but it should do the job."

"Do it," stated Shadewa.

Reltaria raised her left hand, uttering the spell under her breath, before thrusting out her palm twice, casting small green orbs of light towards Shadewa and Gileroth. Upon being touched by the lights, their bodies began to glow brightly, and the glow faded, replaced instead by a wide-spread light emitting from their very bodies, without any visible source. Reltaria cast a similar spell onto herself, resulting in the same glow coming from her body as well.

"We're set then," said Shadewa, holstering his bow and drawing his sword. "I'll take point. Gileroth you're on the rear, Reltaria in the centre; watch our backs and keep your ears open. There's no telling what's waiting for us in here, so we need to be ready for anything."

"Aye," returned Gileroth.

"Right," agreed Reltaria.

With that, the three slowly walked in, descending down another short flight of stairs before coming to the main chamber of the bloodworks; the room was as massive as that of the bloodworks in the Imperial City Arena, with a long, circulating hallway running around a massive cage in the middle of the room; the 'cage' led to the shaft where they dumped the bodies of those killed in the arena. Where the bodies actually wound up, Shadewa neither knew, nor wanted to know.

They walked further, checking the side-room where beds were located, finding nothing out of the ordinary; none of the beds had been recently used. No impressions of a body, the sheets were all straightened out and the dust was undisturbed.

"I can't imagine But where are they?" asked Reltaria.

"There's only the Red Room left to check," said Gileroth.

"Wait," stated Shadewa, looking back towards the bars in the centre of the room again. He walked over to the bars, something seemingly catching his interest. Reltaria and Gileroth glanced at each other briefly before they too stepped over to see what it was the Dark Elf found so interesting.

Then, when they neared the bars, they found that several of them had been filed away on the other side, from the bloodworks of the opposing team; the arena always had two 'teams' to pick fighters from, and both teams had a bloodworks for themselves. It seemed their target was in the other one.

"Our culprit is on the other side," the Dunmer pointed out.

"How do we get over there?" asked Reltaria.

"I'm certainly not tearing out those bars and climbing over a pit filled with dead bodies," stated Gileroth with a very firm tone.

"There should be a door leading over to it from the Red Room; both fighters had to go through there before heading out to the battlefield," replied Shadewa, stepping back from the bars. "Come on."

He led the way over to the red room, and finally they found their first, suspicious clue. The giant wash-basin in the middle of the room, which would normally be filled to the brim with water for fighters to wipe blood and grime from themselves when they came back down from the arena, was empty; in a dark, damp place like this, the water would not likely have evaporated, especially not since, noticed by an audible drip, there was a leak in the ceiling above it, giving it a constant source to replenish it. Yet somehow, the basin was empty, like something had been drinking from it.

"Daedra live in a realm of fire and brimstone," said Reltaria. "They are surely not the ones who drank away all the water in this basin; they do not require hydration as we do."

"Which means Shadewa's right," said Gileroth. "Something, or someone, _is _down here."

"Let's find them, and find out what they are doing down here," stated Shadewa, gripping his sword even more tightly now.

They passed through the door into the second bloodworks, hoping to find something...

And they did!

As soon as the door opened, a feral growl, deep and terrifying, was heard, and a huge creature charged through the door, breaking away stone and wood alike as it came in. The creature, as tall as Gileroth with a body covered in scales, sporting the head of a crocodile, massive, burly arms and legs ending in clawed hands and feet, and a body thicker and more muscular than even a large horse, stood tall and eyed the three intruders hungrily, growling again.

"Daedroth!" cried Reltaria.

Gileroth bellowed in fury as he lunged forward, thrusting his Claymore at the best; his sword pierced its skin but did not go very deep, and it retaliated by backhanding him, sending him crashing into the wall painfully and with a loud clang of his metal armour as it hit the stone wall.

"Aim for its neck!" advised Shadewa as he lunged forward as well. "The scales are thinner there; it has veins in the same place as a person!" He swung his blade, aiming for the Daedroth's vulnerable neck, but he failed to get close enough before it clawed at him with its right hand, catching him on the helmet and staggering him. Before it could attack again, a fireball flew into it, bursting as it struck it in the neck, making the creature growl in pain.

It turned on Reltaria then, and charged for her; the surprisingly nimble mage darted out of the way as it snapped its jaws for her, causing it instead to bite the wash-basin in the middle; the stone caved easily under the powerful jaws of the beastly Daedra, and it turned for her again, but before it could even charge, Gileroth, now back on his feet, rushed in again, slashing the Daedroth on the back of its left leg.

The huge creature reared back its head and snarled, before it turned its attention back on Gileroth once more. It snapped its jaws for him, only for the Nord to drop his claymore, narrowly evade the jaws, and grapple its head, bear-hugging its jaws together and wrestling with it. Gileroth's strength was so great it was almost ridculous; he was actually holding his own in a strength contest with one of the largest and strongest of all Daedra, and was even keeping it fairly still, pulling on its head.

This left its neck exposed, the demonic monster trying to pull its head back from Gileroth, it was unable to stop Shadewa, who thrust his sword below the creatures' throat, pulled up and pulled back, cutting a deep, fatal gash in its throat. The Daedroth struggled more fiercely with Gileroth as its black blood spilled out of its neck, and it fought well for the first ten seconds, but Reltaria then struck it with a spell from her staff, and the Daedra went still, falling to the floor and slipping free of Gileroth's powerful arms, completely immobile for the last seconds of its life.

Even when the spell wore off, and the Daedra's body moved again, it was not to stand up, but to let its limbs fall, splayed out on the floor lying in a pool of its own blood. The demonic beast did not stand up again, the only sound from it the release of its last breath.

Gileroth and Shadewa stood panting, both of them winded from such a fight. "Why was it... still down here?" asked Gileroth.

"It was probably too big to come out of here; the doors are barely large enough for a person, let alone a Daedroth," suggested Reltaria. She uttered a new spell, and cast it towards Shadewa and Gileroth; they became encompassed in white light, and rapidly felt their bruises healing and their fatigue fading away simultaneously.

Shadewa let out a relieved sigh as his energy returned. "I've never seen a spell that both heals and energizes," he remarked.

"I made it," replied Reltaria. "It was one of the first spells I created when I joined the Arcane University. It took me a long time to master it after I created it, and it still takes a lot of my Magicka reserve." As if to emphasize the point, she stuffed her hand into the satchel on her shoulder and produced a vial filled with blue liquid, popping the cork from the vial and drinking its contents. "Good thing I am also an Alchemist; I always make sure I've made plenty of Potions for just such an emergency."

"Clever girl," complimented Gileroth. "I admire someone who prepares themselves for all kinds of situations."

Shadewa turned towards the bloodworks where the Daedroth had come out of. "Say... do you see that glow coming out of there?" he remarked.

Reltaria and Gileroth turned where Shadewa was pointing, and sure enough they found a dim red glow emanating from the side room of the bloodworks; they had not seen the dim glow before, oddly enough. "How did we miss that?" asked Gileroth.

"Indeed; we should've been able to see it even from the other bloodworks; where'd it come from?" asked Reltaria.

Shadewa raised his sword to a combat-ready position. "Let's find out," he stated, and stepped slowly towards the glow.

Gileroth readied his claymore, and Reltaria held her staff in a position where she was ready to cast at a seconds' notice, staying next to the Nord, but just out of reach of his claymore if he were to swing it. Shadewa approached the side-room slowly and carefully, and when he reached the door he stood with his back against the wall, slowly leaning around the corner and peering into the room.

A bony face appeared before him. "AAAAHHH!"

"AAAH!" Shadewa reeled back in fright, the near-skeletal visage of this unexpected newcomer scaring him so badly his heart was left thundering in his chest.

The face belonged to a clearly malnourished High Elf, his eyes ringed with dark bags, showing he hadn't slept in days, and his body, so bony and weak-looking, was covered only by a tattered red robe several sizes too large for him, his fingernails long, cracked and dirty, and half of his teeth were missing along with his mouth being coated in old, blackened blood that was not his own. He has a horrid twitch about him, both his eyes and limbs moving suddenly and uncontrollably, and his eyes wide as if he was terrified.

Shadewa easily recognized those crimson coloured robes; they were all too familiar to him. They were the robes of the Mythic Dawn, the Daedra Cult who had caused the Oblivion Crisis, assassinated Emperor Uriel Septim, and brought Mehrunes Dagon himself into Tamriel, causing Martin Septim to sacrifice himself in order to defend the world from the Daedric Prince.

"Get ouuut..." he said, his voice rasp and uneven.

"By the gods, look at this guy," said Gileroth. "He looks like a zombie."

"He's a Mythic Dawn Cultist," informed Shadewa as he stood back up. "He must've been left behind after the attack on Kvatch and was trapped down here alone all this time."

"Youuuu are not weeelcome here!" the cultist went on. "Beeee gone!"

"I can't help but pity him," said Reltaria. "I know I shouldn't but look at what happened to him."

"Shor's Bones, he reeks!" remarked Gileroth. "Smells like a hundred rotton corpses."

"Be careful; he may still be dangerous," said Shadewa, before he turned to the cultist. "Who are you? What're you doing down here?"

"Trapped... trapped for so long!" the cultist replied, putting his hands together, wiggling his fingers around. "Abandoned... no longer hear the master, or the call of Lord Dagon! Could not get ooouuut..." He cackled madly. "Lost track of all time; do not even know my own name anymore! I am nobody... just a rat in a pit... my pit! Visitors not welcome!" His expression turned furious.

"Easy now," Shadewa reasoned, trying to keep him calm. "How did you survive down here?"

"Meat... meat from the pit," he looked towards the center of the room, where the caged hole was located. "So much of it, but spoiled so rapidly! Haven't eaten anything but rats for weeks!" He twitched even more.

"By Mara, he's been eating corpses," Reltaria said, disgusted. "And rat meat... his body must be riddled with disease right now."

"He comes near me I'm going to split him in two," informed Gileroth.

Shadewa looked past the cultist. "Where is that glow coming from?"

"Gateway," replied the cultist. "_MY _gateway; tried so long to make door, trying to get out and go to promised place! Instead, recently, visitors come through; welcome visitors! Then, heard burrowing; visitors rush outside! Hear much screaming... but not go out. Not sure what is out there; world is different now. So different!"

"Reltaria... what do we do with him?" asked Shadewa. "He's lost his mind and he's clearly ill; can you help him?"

"I could cure the diseases but he's overcome with madness," replied Reltaria. "I'm not sure I can counsel him out of such a state."

Shadewa turned back to the cultist again. "It's safe for you now; you can leave," he said. "There are people who can help you."

"NO!" bellowed the elf. "This is MY home now, my gateway is here; it will take me to the promised place!" He ducked back, going around the corner. "Almost done now; must finish! Leave alone! Leave!"

Shadewa walked forward, slowly once more, and peered into the room to find out exactly what this 'gateway' the maddened elf referred to was.

What he saw made his heart sink.

Sitting in the middle of the room was an improvised altar, made from numerous stones of all shapes and sizes, but floating over it was what looked like a large round stone ablaze with energy. A stone Shadewa recognized all too easily; it was a Sigil Stone, used by the Mythic Dawn and Daedra to anchor Oblivion Gates in place to allow Daedra to come through. How this High Elf found a sigil stone, Shadewa didn't know, but by using it he had created a small Oblivion Gate over that improvised altar, and the fact a Daedroth had been able to come through meant it was slowly becoming stronger.

"See? See it?" asked the mad cultist once he had noticed Shadewa was there. "Did not ask you if you wanted to see, but you see it... soon, soon! I will be able to go to the promised place! Soon I can go where I was promised!"

"High Elf you don't realize what you're doing!" Shadewa exclaimed. "The Promised Place you speak of doesn't exist anymore; it's been destroyed! You've only opened a portal to the realm of Oblivion!"

"Doesn't... exist?" The altmer echoed, turning towards Shadewa. "Doesn't... EXIST?!" His fists went ablaze with fire. "YOU _WON'T_ EXIST!"

"Watch out; he's snapped!" Gileroth warned, backing up just as two fireballs flew out of the room, exploding on the opposing wall.

"The Promised Place will soon be open! I will hear the master again; you will cease to exist and I will know the world I have waited so long for!" He stepped out. "But you will not witness it; the others wait for me, not you! So you cannot be here!" He threw more flames at them. "You must be REMOVED!"

Reltaria threw up a ward as one of the fireballs came at her, but it struck with such force it shattered her barrier and threw her off of her feet. Gileroth narrowly stumbled out of the way of a second fireball. Shadewa was struck by one, but his Dark Elven blood gave him a natural resistance to flames; the fire hurt, but not as seriously as it would a human or another type of elf.

"You have left me no option, Altmer!" Shadewa charged forward, dodging yet another ball of flame as it was thrown at him, and then sprang, gripping his Akaviri sword with both hands and slashing downward as he came in range of the Cultist. The sword met cloth, then skin, and finally bone, the razor-sharp blade cutting through all, including the elf's heart.

He gurgled on his own blood before sliding off of Shadewa's sword and falling limp to the ground, dead before he even hit the floor. Shadewa swung his sword in the air, flinging off some of the blood, before wiping it off on the fallen cultists' robes and sheathing it. "Talos have mercy on you," he said with scorn.

With the death of the High Elf, the sigil stone inside of the side-room lost its source of magic, and flames exploded into the room as the sigil stone released all of the energy it had already gathered. Shadewa spun around to his friends. "We have to get out of here!" he bellowed, turning and running past them. "Come on! Hurry!"

Reltaria and Gileroth swiftly followed after the Dark Elf, sprinting through the bloodworks of the arena as the whole room began to violently shake; they quickly reached the exit stairs, climbing them hurriedly and returned to the streets of Kvatch. But Shadewa kept going, and Reltaria and Gileroth kept following; he knew more about Sigil Stones than either of them so if he was running there had to have been reasons.

And they soon found out.

A beam of light erupted from the caged ground in the middle of the arena battlefield, and flames followed soon, gushing out of every opening, even though still obscured by rubble, sending chunks of wood and stone flying everywhere. A shockwave blew the three heroes into the air, flying several feet before hitting the ground painfully more than twenty paces away from where they had been before.

When the explosion sudsided the three had been buried until a small amount of rubble; Gileroth was the first to move, pushing his way out from under brick and timbers, groaning loudly. "What in the name of Kyne was that?"

"That... is what happens when a sigil stone... is removed from its energy source," returned Shadewa as he duck his way out.

Reltaria was the last to get free, using her staff as a lever to lift a chunk of wood off of her; her leg hurt, lightly bruised by the falling timber but the bones felt intact. "How many times did you have to run like that from them during the crisis?"

"I didn't," replied Shadewa. "By some strange coincidence I always reappeared outside of the Oblivion Gates where I entered the realm through. But I recall, always before that happened, the towers going ablaze from the release of the sigil stone's energies and its source going out of control, having nothing to feed anymore. I never saw much beyond that I but I remember well the explosion that would happen just before I would find myself back outside of the gates."

"Thank Mara you did," said Reltaria, pushing herself up to her feet. "I doubt we'd have survived that explosion if we had been much closer."

Gileroth was back on his feet as well, and turned his gaze back towards the arena grounds. "Apparently the Arena would agree with you," he remarked.

Shadewa and Reltaria followed his gaze, and their eyes widened as they saw what had become of the arena; only a crater remained where the battleground had been moments ago, the walls burnt black by the ensuing fires, most of the timbers utterly incinerated by the explosion, the rest barely holding on, and rubble scattered all around.

"By the Gods," muttered Shadewa.

"Count Matius is not going to be happy about this," stated Reltaria.

"No... no he is not," agreed Shadewa. "But, we have to tell him. At least the rest of the town wasn't damaged."

"Perhaps now the citizens can finally rebuild in peace," added Reltaria.

Gileroth looked up. "Did you also notice that the sky has cleared?"

The Dark Elf and Argonian looked up, and sure enough, they could see that Gileroth was correct; the rain clouds that seemed to indefinitely hang over the city of Kvatch since the Oblivion Crisis, were gone. The sun was shining through in its twilit glory, bathing the town in warm light. It appeared that the sigil stone's presence below the city was what had brought its cloak of darkness, the foul hand of Mehrunes Dagon forever leaving Kvatch shrouded and miserable. But no longer; the clouds were gone, the sky was clear, and the city was safe again.

"Now I know they can," stated Reltaria.

"Without a doubt in my mind," agreed Shadewa.

As they expected, Matius was not pleased about the damage to the Arena, but the town being safe, sunny and that no other damage had been done. "I suppose the arena can wait... I wanted to rebuild it first so that the people could have somewhere to go to occupy themselves when daily reconstruction work was finished; put on shows for them to see, that sort of thing. I thought it would take their minds off of the horrid events that have taken place over the last little while. But I think ensuring this town is safe again is a much higher priority; I'll hire more guardsmen, and focus resources on getting the peoples' homes and the defenses back up again. Kvatch will never again be threatened."

Shadewa nodded to Count Matius. "I wish you luck, then, my lord," he said. "Should you have need of me again, I will return. I promise."

Matius nodded to Shadewa. "I wish I had something to offer you as a reward this time but I'm afraid I haven't," he said, sadly. "Nobody here, even me, have much left before the city is rebuilt."

Shadewa held up his hand. "That's quite alright, Matius," he assured the Imperial. "Kvatch has suffered more than enough these past few months; what matters to me is that it can continue on and that one day, it can be the gem of the Colovian Highlands it used to be."

"You are truly a rarity, Shadewa," complimented Matius. "When the city is rebuilt, if you ever find yourself in need of a place to stay, or even somewhere to call your home, I'd be honored if you would make Kvatch that home. This offer will always stand; of that you have my word."

Shadewa nodded. "Your people will prosper under you, Count Matius," he said, before bowing respectfully. "I bid you farewell, until next our paths cross."

"All I hope that the city isn't in distress again the next time," jested Matius, earning a laugh from Shadewa.

With that, the Dark Elf turned and headed towards the city gate, where Reltaria and, much to his surprise, Gileroth stood waiting. When Shadewa approached, he turned to the Nord. "Here to see us off?"

"Actually, Reltaria tells me you're heading for Leyawiin," replied Gileroth. "I'm heading that way myself; there's a friend of mine in Bravil I was hoping to visit while I was in Cyrodiil."

"You have a friend living in the Niben?" asked Shadewa. "But you're from Skyrim, right?"

"Windhelm, to be exact," confirmed Gileroth.

"That's a long journey," said Reltaria.

"Well, I see no reason you can't come along," returned Shadewa. He then turned to Reltaria. "How about you my friend; what are your plans?"

"Sadly I must return home myself," replied Reltaria. "I have been away from the Imperial City Waterfront for some time; some people there may be in need of my services. Beyond that, I should return to the university to brush up on more of my studies; perhaps I can improve somewhat before your next adventure starts, hmm?"

Shadewa chuckled. "They were certainly helpful this time around," he admitted, shameless in the confession. "If you had not paralyzed that Daedroth it might've killed us."

"Well, let us waste no time," said Gileroth. "You two have horses?"

"That we do," replied Shadewa.

"Then let's get on the road," stated the Nord. "I want to get to Skingrad before it gets too late into the night."

"Is the big, strong Nord afraid of the dark?" teased Reltaria, giggling.

"Not even partially. I just don't want to be riding blind; I'm not a Khajiit," returned Gileroth.

"Then we better make trails," stated Shadewa.

With that, the three quickly headed to their horses, mounting up and riding off into the dusk-lit Gold Road, heading east along the road towards Skingrad riding quickly. They felt satisfied with the good work the three had done today; Kvatch was safe again for the people to continue rebuilding their city, and could even safely move their encampment into the walls where they would not be in any danger of attacks in the night; soon Kvatch would be rebuilt, and would once again be the safe haven it always was before the Oblivion Crisis.

But for these three heroes, their adventures were only beginning.


	3. Everlasting Enemy, Brother in Blood

The Elder Scrolls Adventures

Volume 3:

Everlasting enemy, Brother in Blood

"So Gileroth," began Shadewa. "This friend of yours that you are heading to meet in Bravil; who is he?"

"Nobody you would know," replied Gileroth. "He's a simple hunter by trade but he's a damn good archer. He knows the Niben and all areas around it like a bird knows its nest."

"Almost sounds like Weebum-Na, but he lives in Leyawiin," said Shadewa.

"Nope. This guys' name is Torine, an Imperial to be exact," corrected Gileroth. "I met him when he was hunting in Morrowind, hunting Cliff Racers; I was there as well and met him on the road while he was chasing one of those pesky Racers but he made a misstep and fell off a ridge above the road I was walking on, and fell on me in the process."

Reltaria snorted slightly as she held back a laugh, putting her hand over her muzzle to try and keep it suppressed.

"What's so funny?" Gileroth asked sternly.

"I apologize but that's just... a funny image," she replied.

"Sounds like he was hunting in the Ashlands; a lot of weak cliffs in that region where one could fall off of," remarked Shadewa. "Fortunately most of those cliffs are pretty low; he's lucky he wasn't on the Red Mountain or the high rises around it."

"I don't think anyone's foolish enough to want to go up there," remarked Gileroth. "I could swear that place is ready to erupt at any time; it seems to belch more smoke every time I see it."

"How would you know that?" asked Shadewa.

"If you go to Winterhold on one of its few, clear nights, you can see the mountain far to the south-east," replied Gileroth. "Hard to miss it with all that smoke coming out of the crater; it's like a warning signal to all of Tamriel that it's going to blow anytime now."

"I hope not," admitted Shadewa. "I may not miss my homeland, but I do not wish to see my people become refugees."

"With the empire the way it is, Shadewa, worse things than that could happen," informed Reltaria. "I have heard rumours that my people in Black Marsh are preparing to declare independence from the Empire. They could use that time to launch an invasion against Morrowind. After all, you're not the only one who despised what the Dunmer were…"

"I know!" Shadewa snapped, unnecessarily, making Reltaria step back, fear that Shadewa would yell at her more.

"Hey, hey, take it easy, Shadewa," urged Gileroth. "You don't need to get mad at her."

"I'm... I'm sorry," the Dark Elf returned. "Every time I'm reminded of my people enslaving Reltaria's, and those of the Khajiit, the more I resent my own people..." He rubbed his eyes. "How can you be proud of what you are when you come from a race that stole the freedom of another?"

Reltaria stepped up to him and put her hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry I brought it up," she said. "Maybe it will not turn out so badly. After all, years ago, the Argonians, Dark Elves and Nords were allies, weren't they?"

"Ah, yes; the Ebonheart Pact," replied Shadewa. "Dark days as those were, our three races were allies; however uneasy, we were friends, united against a common threat, and we fought and died together."

"Maybe the three of us coming together is a sign of going back to better times," suggested Gileroth.

"I can only hope," replied Shadewa.

But then, the three of them came to sign on the road; two days along the gold road and they had finally reached a fork, one direction heading North along the western banks of Lake Rumare, the other road heading East along the lakes' southern banks. The road-sign in the middle of the fork showed North to lead towards The Imperial City, Chorrol or Bruma, while the east road headed for Bravil, Leyawiin or Cheydinhal.

Reltaria turned to Shadewa. "I... hope the sword lesson will still be open when next we meet?"

"Free of charge, any time you like," returned the dark elf. "Thank you, Reltaria... for everything you did for me."

She smiled at him. "It was my pleasure, Shadewa."

The two of them watched the others' expression briefly before they walked into one another's arms, hugging each other for a long moment. In such a short time she had become very special to the Dark Elf; Shadewa truly hoped he'd meet Reltaria again one day. The Argonian shared his thoughts, hoping that soon she would also see him again.

When they finally pulled apart, they said nothing more, only smiled to one another before Reltaria hefted her staff over her shoulder and began to follow the road to the North, towards the bridge to the Imperial City.

Shadewa let out a sigh. "That woman has given me so much…" He whispered. "I hope I meet her again soon."

"You two share a bond I have seen only in the Companions of Jorrvaskr in Whitrun," stated Gileroth. "If it is not too personal, how did you two meet? It isn't unheard of, but definitely uncommon for Argonians and Dark Elves to have such a friendship."

Shadewa sighed. "I suppose there's no harm in telling you," he replied to Gileroth, and began explaining as the two began following the road to the east. "I am… somewhat different from my people, I suppose. You see, years ago I still had a home in Morrowind, but I resented our ways, especially our enslavement of the Argonians and Khajiit. Eventually it led me to rebel against my own people, freeing slaves."

Gileroth's eyes widened. "I thought something about you seemed familiar," he said, which earned him a quizzical look from Shadewa. "You're that Redoran man, aren't you? I heard about you."

Shadewa let out a forced laugh, although he was honestly surprised. "Word of my treachery has even spread to Skyrim."

"Actually, I learned of it in Morrowind, but yes, my brothers back home know of you as well," stated Gileroth. "You see, I was hired by the Twin Lamps once for assistance, to help them fight off a band of Mercenaries hired by Orvas Dren to massacre the inhabitants of one of their hideouts and take back a group of slaves they had liberated."

"'Hired' by them?" Inquired Shadewa. "You mean to say you're a mercenary?"

"Yes, but not what you'd expect," replied Gileroth. "That's actually another reason I came to Cyrodiil; I wanted to enlist with the Fighter's Guild."

"I see," said Shadewa. "But please, continue."

"Not much more to tell; I drove off the Dren warriors almost on my own; they weren't all that difficult," he went on. "After collecting my fee, I heard some of them mention a renegade Andalara –no offense- that was freeing slaves he was originally supposed to deliver and leaving them in the hands of the Twin Lamps. I admit I thought they may have only been rumors, but part of me believed perhaps there could have been someone among the Dark Elves that did not care for the ways of their people; it's not so different with us Nords, as we always try to put some of our more… gruesome ways behind us."

"Yes, I know of them," replied Shadewa, nodding. "So you learned of me from the Twin Lamps, then."

"Yes," confirmed Gileroth. "But where does Reltaria fit in? Is she one of the Argonians you freed?"

Shadewa shook his head. "No; she has never felt the cold shackles of slavery," he replied. "I made sure of that, but not so long ago. I was on my way home to Leyawiin…" And he went on to retell the story of how Shadewa had found Reltaria being ambushed by renegade Telvanni slavers; he fought them off, and escorted her the rest of the way to Leyawiin, but as a healer she could see something was troubling Shadewa and took it upon herself to help him.

She had managed to bring a confession of what plagued him out of him, and helped him empty his heart of all the pain, although the elf left out the part of Reltaria using Illusion Magic to force him to open up to her 'It probably wouldn't look good for Reltaria if someone were to get the wrong idea about her methods', he had decided; many people, especially Nords, were skeptical about Magic to begin with, and if Gileroth thought Reltaria had been playing mind games with Shadewa, he may think she was some kind of mischievous enchantress.

He continued telling him about everything he had confessed to Reltaria; surprisingly to the elf, it felt easier to speak of them this time, despite having nearly broken down in agony when he had told it all to Reltaria. Once again she had been right; talking to someone about the troubles of your life did not solve them, but it helped relieve the burden. Before long, he had retold his story to Gileroth, who had listened just as attentively as Reltaria had.

The Nord was genuinely intrigued. "So while here, and in several corners of the Empire you're revered a revolutionary and a hero, you're considered an outlaw in Morrowind," he said. "I can see how that would be a heavy burden to you; I cannot begin to fathom what it would be like for me if my own people resented me simply because I did not share their beliefs." He had a solemn look about him for a moment, before he turned to Shadewa again. "And so, Reltaria voluntarily counselled you, and you feel indebted to her for it; is that about the sum of it?"

Shadewa shrugged slightly. "I suppose you could put it that way, yes," he replied. "I don't know what else it could be; Reltaria took almost all of the pain in my heart away as if it was willed by Akatosh himself. I do not know where I stand with The Nine, as I have doubts my good deeds outnumber the crimes I have committed, but it is quite a coincidence that a good deed would transform into my own salvation, all in the same week." He looked at the sky. "If the Nine are seeing fit to give me a second chance, perhaps Reltaria is the conduit for that. Or, maybe I am overthinking it, and it was all a massive coincidence; whatever the case may be, she has changed my life, and given me the strength to carry on."

Gileroth smiled. "It is good to know such people live when times are as dark as they are," he said. "In the aftermath of the Oblivion Crisis, people like Reltaria may as well be a divine blessing, as the world will need people like her if it is to recover."

Shadewa nodded in agreement, and peered ahead. They were already coming in sight of the old bridge and Pell's Gate. He hadn't even realized how long they'd been walking; having a companion around definitely helped pass the time. He'd been travelling alone so often for so long that he'd forgotten just how lonesome the road could be.

He cleared his throat. "So, after you visit your friend I imagine you intend to head for the Fighter's Guild then?" Shadewa asked the Nord.

Gileroth nodded. "Good honest work with them, and I could use something to do; in a few years I'll be out of my prime and I want to spend those years doing something useful."

"The way you speak and, judging by appearance, I'd say you're roughly in your mid thirties?" Shadewa asked.

"Thirty-six to be exact," replied Gileroth. "That was quite a guess; how did you know?"

"The 'Prime' age for humans is between twenty and forty years," replied Shadewa. "You saying you're nearing the end of your prime tipped me off."

"Very perceptive," complimented Gileroth. "I suppose you're going to go ahead and mention something about having lived a while and learned to read people and…"

"I'm not that old," replied Shadewa. "Especially not by Elf standards; I'm forty-seven. Compared to King Helseth or Queen-Mother Barenziah I may as well only be a child."

"You're only forty-seven and yet you've had so many adventures in your life?" Gileroth asked. "I feel I should be envious!"

Shadewa was amused by Gileroth's enthusiasm, although sour about his concept of 'adventures'. "I would not wish the life I've endured on another," he said quietly. "Well… nobody except _him…_"

The two had stopped at the Inn of Ill Omen for the night, and set out bright and early in the morning, but all the while unaware of a shadow that had been following them since the day before. Whoever it was, they moved with remarkable speed, and yet remained completely undetected by Shadewa or Gileroth alike, as they continued on their way to Bravil.

The dark figure chuckled sinisterly as he eyed the Dark Elf of the pair. "To think, I wanted you dead more than a decade ago," they said to themselves. "Tried, humiliated, and executed. But, instead, I get to execute you all on my own." The figure chuckled again as he continued to follow them. "This is one contract I'll take more pleasure in than any other."

They were almost in sight of the city when Shadewa abruptly stopped, and looked at Gileroth. "You ever get that feeling you're being watched?" He asked the Nord.

"Sometimes," replied Gileroth. "Why; is there someone following us?"

"I don't know," he replied. "Keep walking; we should stay inconspicuous."

"Aye," agreed the Nord, and so the two continued walking along.

"When we get to the fork, I'll keep going around," began Shadewa. "Head on across the bridge as if you're going into Bravil, and after a moment or two, start following me."

"What makes you so certain they're after you?" Gileroth inquired.

"I angered a few Telvanni slavers the other day," replied Shadewa, bluntly. "Slavers tend to take that rather poorly, especially the Telvanni."

Gileroth nodded. "Alright… but if I don't show up, you better make sure you come back," he said.

"If this is some assassin he'd never attack you out in the open; too many witnesses, and too likely that the town guard will stop him," stated Shadewa. "No… I'm very certain he'll come after me."

"Alright, if you say so," said Gileroth.

As they neared the bridge, they pretended to say goodbye to one another before Shadewa continued to follow the road around the city, while Gileroth crossed the bridge leading to the gates of Bravil and passing through the open gates unhindered. Shadewa nodded to no one in particular before increasing his pace as he walked along the road.

In truth, Shadewa knew that the person following him was undoubtedly after him, but he didn't want Gileroth being caught in a battle that was his alone, because the Dunmer was also very certain he knew exactly who it was following him…

Once around the rear of Bravil, he ducked off of the road into a copse of trees, and then turned. "Alright," he called. "I'm here, and I know you are too!" He drew his sword. "Face me in the open, you scurrying little scrib!"

A moment passed, and he heard a rustle in the trees, turning towards the sound, but seeing nothing. However, then he heard a voice from back where he was looking before, and sure enough, there stood a white-haired dark elf, carrying a spear and dressed in a full body of netch leather armour, commonly used in Morrowind.

But it was the face of the elf that he was the most familiar with; their white hair was longer than his own, tied back into a rouge knot, and revealing a face that was strikingly similar to his own, but paler. He boasted a fairly athletic figure but was not as muscular as Shadewa himself was, and wore a ring on each hand that gleamed with enchantments.

Shadewa's face contorted into a scowl. "I knew it was you," he stated. "With the empire in such chaos you couldn't resist the opportunity to come after me, could you?"

The Dark Elf grinned menacingly. "Is that any way to greet your brother, Shadewa?"

Shadewa spat. "You're no brother of mine, Arathyn," he returned.

Arathyn, the elder brother of Shadewa, though the two looked so alike they could almost have been twins if not for their different hair colours. Shadewa's rare red colour was very uncommon among dark elves and had earned him some envious or even suspicious looks in his life, but it was the only real way to tell him apart from his brother who stood before him now.

Arathyn stepped forward into the sunlight beaming between the trees. "When I'd heard the Telvanni had been upset by you, brother, I came to Cyrodiil as fast as possible before your trail went cold, and look at that; I found you."

"You sure arrived fast, didn't you?" Shadewa asked. "I only warded off those Telvanni three days ago."

"I was rather close to the border of north-western Black Marsh and south-eastern Cyrodiil," replied Arathyn. "Ever since you were banished I've had to waste my time capturing slaves myself. Though I'm not as merciful to them as you were if they refuse to come quietly; some of them arrive with missing tails, or fingers, or teeth… some just aren't worth the trouble."

Shadewa grit his teeth in anger. "You scum!" He lunged forward, sword ready strike.

Arathyn gripped his spear in both hands and brought it up just in time to block Shadewa's opening strike with the shaft, and then kicked his brother away. Twirling his spear once and repositioning it for a better combat position, standing sideways with the tip of it aimed for his kinsman, he waited for his brother to attack again.

And attack he did; Shadewa rushed forward and side-stepped as Arathyn made a stab for him again, evading the weapon and then cutting towards him; the elder Dunmer raised his weapon just in time to block the strike, but still suffered a nick to his face. He pushed Shadewa away and then turned himself about, sweeping towards the younger elf's legs with his weapon. Shadewa's boots saved him from the sharp edge of the spearhead, which might have hamstrung him, but the force of the strike knocked his leg out from under him and threw him off balance, sending him onto his back.

Shadewa grunted as he hit the ground, and looked up just as he saw his brother raising his spear for the deathblow; he put his shield up in front of him, and the spear stuck into the wood. Thinking fast, Shadewa pulled his arm to the side harshly, jerking the spear in his brother's grip, and then kicked him in the hip with his chainmail-clad boot.

Arathyn stumbled, recoiling from the kick, and Shadewa hurriedly scrambled to his feet again, just as Arathyn came at him again, thrusting his spear forward with such force that even when Shadewa raised his shield in defense, the weapon found a seam, punched through and penetrated halfway into his arm.

With a searing pain shooting up the entire length of his arm, Shadewa howled in pain, again as Arathyn harshly pulled to the side, tearing the wound open further and pulling Shadewa's shield out of his hand. Shadewa held his arm against his chest, trying to staunch the bleeding; the wound was deep, and it bled profusely, staining his mail and surcoat a dark red.

Arathyn chuckled. "You never could beat me in a fight, brother."

Shadewa scowled at him. "Well… it's what you want isn't it?" He asked as he defiantly raised his sword. "Let's finish it."

"It's already finished," retorted Arathyn as he held up his hand and uttered something under his breath; a red fog erupted from his palm and swarmed around Shadewa like whole hive's worth of angry bees.

In seconds, Shadewa felt weak… unable to stand; his armour felt as if its weight had quadrupled in the span of a second, and though he tried to resist, he was forced onto his hands and knees, his sword left pinned below his hand, no longer able to raise it to defend himself as his strength was sapped from him.

Arathyn kicked Shadewa in the face and sent him reeling onto his back, stepping onto his stomach and looking the younger elf in the eye. "Beg for your life, brother," he stated.

Shadewa, despite his weakness, glared at him. "Not even if you held me over the Red Mountain's crater," he returned.

Arathyn gave an amused smile. "A shame… I would have enjoyed watching you squirm." He raised his spear up again, and aimed it right for Shadewa's heart, ready to bring it down. "Good bye, Shadewa."

The younger elf shut his eyes, bracing himself for the imminent death blow, ready to feel Nocturnal's darkness upon him…

But the strike never came, and a yelp of pain that was not his own, followed by a relief of weight from his stomach and something falling on his shoulder caused him to open his eyes; he saw his brother staggering towards a tree, an arrow protruding from his arm and his spear dropped onto Shadewa while the elder elf grabbed at the arrow, trying instinctively to pull it free.

A ferocious battle cry was heard; Arathyn grabbed for his spear, but Shadewa, using all his strength, turned himself over and pinned the weapon beneath him. Instead, Arathyn grabbed Shadewa's dropped Akaviri blade and turned to face the new foe charging into the copse of trees; a giant clad in steel and carrying a claymore.

Gileroth!

Arathyn raised the borrowed sword in defense, as the first attack came, but it was knocked out of his hand by the tremendous strength of the Nord, as well as his weakened grip due to the arrow still protruding from his forearm. Gileroth brought his blade around and swung again, aiming to decapitate the white-haired Dunmer. Arathyn was quick though, and ducked under the swing, before he ran for a nearby tree, swiftly and with remarkable agility, even evading another arrow that came flying into the trees, fired by an unknown shooter.

Arathyn ran up a tree trunk, and sprang from the tree towards another one, grabbing onto one of its branches and swinging himself up into the canopy. Gileroth roared in fury as he chased after the elf, leaping from tree to tree.

The shooter came running over to Shadewa; an Imperial with brown hair tied back into a ponytail, wearing fur armour over his torso and carrying a longbow in his hand, and a leather satchel over his shoulder. He knelt down next to the fallen elf. "Are you alright?" He asked.

Shadewa managed to roll onto his back again, and weakly gesture to his wounded arm; he was starting to feel dizzy from loss of blood. The Imperial immediately lifted his satchel from his shoulder, opening it, and pulling out a long strip of cloth. He lifted Shadewa's arm, pulling off his gauntly carefully to expose his arm, and pressing the cloth against it, slowing the loss of blood as he also pulled out a healing potion.

Helping Shadewa to drink the potion, the stranger quickly cleaned the wound with some water and pulled a second cloth out of his bag, drawing a dagger and cutting it into four strips; tying them together into two's and then tying then around Shadewa's arm to hold the already soaked cloth against it. The bleeding slowed, but it hadn't stopped completely, though Shadewa could lift his arm a little more easily now.

But he still felt incredibly weak, the spell placed upon him by Arathyn before still in effect. The Imperial helped him sit up, and dragged him over to a tree to prop him upright. "Are you hurt anywhere else?" he asked the dark elf.

Shadewa shook his head. "No," he rasped.

A grumbling caught their attention, and they turned to see Gileroth storming back over to him. "Cowardly little rat slipped away; must've used an invisibility spell or something," he said, before looking at the two. "How is he?" He asked the Imperial.

"His arm's gashed fairly badly, but he seems alright otherwise," replied the Imperial. "Fortunately for him he had two layers of mail over that spot; helped keep the spear from penetrating too deep."

Gileroth looked over at the spear lying on the ground. He stuck his claymore into the dirt, picked up the spear with both hands, and promptly snapped it over his knee. "This won't be claiming anymore victims," he growled, tossing the weapon aside, and then retrieved Shadewa's sword and brought it over. "You should have waited, Shadewa; Torine and I could've helped you."

"I'm sorry," replied Shadewa. "I knew who it was following us; I could feel it in my heart. I was hoping I could defeat him by myself, and prevent anyone else from getting hurt on my account. I guess, despite everything I've achieved, he's still too strong for me to defeat."

"Champion of Cyrodiil or not, you're still just one man, Shadewa," said Gileroth. "Though if that other elf could beat you, he must've been very well-trained."

"Yes, he is," replied Shadewa. "We trained together back home; I thought the additional training I gained from the Blades would be enough for me to beat him, but it seems he's become even stronger and he can still read my moves like I could read a book."

"You trained with him?" The Imperial, apparently Gileroth's friend, Torine, inquired. "Now that I get a good look at you… you resemble him, somewhat."

"There's a good reason for that," stated to Shadewa. "I'm his younger brother."

As always, Shadewa's blow fell short of reaching Arathyn; the incredibly swift elf dodged his every move, as if knowing it was coming even before Shadewa himself did. Every night, they sparred like this to keep up with their training until their teacher returned from his visit to a relative in Molag Mar, leaving the two alone in Vivec to practice on their own.

As Shadewa missed with his wooden practice sword once more, Arathyn stuck his staff between the younger elf's legs and sent Shadewa tumbling onto his face, narrowly evading smashing his nose against the stone floor, and then felt Arathyn's foot on his back and the staff tapping the back of his neck.

"Dead again, brother," he said, mockingly.

Shadewa waited until Arathyn got off of his back before he rolled onto his backside and looked up at his brother. "I don't understand how you're able to follow my movements so easily! I've used two techniques you and I never even practiced together yet you still knew what was coming."

Arathyn offered a hand to Shadewa and helped him to his feet. "I simply have a keen eye, brother," he replied. "Simply by watching how you move, I know exactly what you're going to do."

"Well, I hope I never have to fight you then," stated Shadewa.

"You'll always have me on your side, brother," promised Arathyn.

Shadewa smiled for a moment, but that smile soon faded. "Well… but not _at_ my side. We're both going to be sent away soon."

Arathyn sighed unhappily. "It's for the best, little brother. Our mother and father expect much from us, for the benefit of all house Redoran. Besides, you love the sea; I think you'll love learning how to be a sailor! Not to mention, you're quite the little haggler; you'll make a damn good merchant."

"And you've always had an aptitude for magic, maybe as much as you do for combat; I do hope you're accepted into the Mage's Guild."

"They can't really refuse someone from the Great House of Redoran, now can they?" Arathyn asked smugly.

"They have before," replied Shadewa.

Arathyn scowled.

"Sorry."

Then, the door opened, and into the room stepped a person they were both very familiar with; Vaverel Andalara, their father. The two of them stood at attention as he came in, and he greeted them both with a stone face. "You already finished practicing?" He asked.

"Yes father," they replied.

"Good," he said. "I have some news. I finally heard from that representative at the Mage's Guild, Arathyn."

"Did they accept my application?" Arathyn asked.

Vaverel shook his head. "They did not," he replied. "Unfortunately, there's no more room in the guild for new associates." Before Arathyn could speak, he went on. "However, I did learn from them that there's a talented wizard in Mournhold who is currently seeking a new apprentice, and he asked the Mage's Guild to pass along that message. I could make arrangements to send you to them instead."

Arathyn didn't seem to know how to respond at first, but eventually seemed to come up with a question. "Could they teach me more than the Mage's Guild?"

"I do not know, but if the Guild isn't taking on any new members right now, then I see no reason not to give this apprenticeship a chance," replied Vaverel. "Besides, you've always wanted to see Mournhold, haven't you?"

Arathyn nodded in agreement to that question, and then turned to Shadewa, as if asking for his opinion. Shadewa simply smiled and shrugged to his brother, and Arathyn returned the gesture, before turning to his father. "I suppose that I shall give it a try then," he said.

"After he came back from Mournhold, years later, he had changed," Shadewa went on as he told the story. "He was cold, heartless; there was no doubt he was much stronger, almost unnaturally so even after ten years of training, but I swear it wasn't even the same man I called my brother anymore. Even less so when he actually tried to have me executed when I turned against house Redoran.

"Something happened to my brother in Mournhold; it changed him. I don't know what; I don't know if I even want to learn. But that person who attacked me and who you two chased off… it was him."

Gileroth and Torine exchanged quizzical looks, unsure of what to make of Shadewa's story. Once he had actually been strong enough to tell it to them, after they'd taken him to the temple for healing and removing the curse of weakness that Arathyn had placed on him when they had been fighting. Now they sat in Torine's home in Bravil; a small house overlooking the Bravil canals, right next door to the fletcher's home. Fitting, as Torine seemed to favour the bow.

Gileroth looked at Shadewa. "So that guy was you brother… by Ysmir, how can anyone want to kill their own kinsman? It's just not right!"

"What're you going to do?" Torine asked Shadewa. "If he's after you, then he'll strike the next time you're alone."

Shadewa sighed. "I'm not sure," he replied. "I cannot defeat him on my own, but I cannot ask to stay with the two of you for the rest of my days. I don't know what to do…"

"I say, let him come to you, and we take him down!" Gileroth stated, standing up from his chair. "He couldn't be a match for all three of us, now could he?"

"Gileroth," Torine stated. "We just mentioned how he'll attack Shadewa when next he's alone, meaning that Arathyn will not reveal himself until he is miles away from you or I. He will not fall for the same trick twice; it would not surprise me if he's watching my home even now, waiting until Shadewa exposes himself to a knife in the back."

"Indeed, I would be no safer in Leyawiin," said Shadewa. "Perhaps if Mazoga were at the lodge, she and I could both handle Arathyn, but she is always travelling, performing deeds, and is rarely back at the lodge." He sighed. "I have doubts she'd be a match for Arathyn anyway; his mastery of both magic and combat makes him very dangerous."

"So then we need another wizard to help us fight him," stated Torine.

"What about Reltaria?" Gileroth began. "We could go the Imperial City and…"

"Are you out of your mind?!" Shadewa demanded. "Arathyn would murder her without a second thought; he looks upon Argonians as the stuff beneath his boot!" He calmed down. "Besides, I don't know if she'd be powerful enough to challenge him. He has far more experience than she does. Furthermore, she is a healer, not a sorcerer."

"Well what's your choice on the matter then?" Gileroth asked.

Shadewa looked at him. "The only choice there is," he stated. "I will have to face him, alone."

Convincing Gileroth and Torine to let Shadewa go it alone was not easy, especially since Shadewa was not yet fully healed from the wound he had suffered from Arathyn the day before. Eventually, however, he convinced them of the necessity; his brother would never stop hunting him. He would wait until the next year of Akatosh if he had to, he would stalk Shadewa until his very next opportunity presented itself.

Leaving early in the morning, he travelled to the nearby Ayleid Ruins; the ruins of the old nation of the Heartland High-Elves that resided in Cyrodiil centuries before the coming of humanity. It seemed a fitting place; if Shadewa were to die, it'd save the world the trouble of having to bury him…

He proceeded to the ruins, waiting until he was out of sight of Bravil. He carried only his sword this time, his shield having been too damaged to be of use to him against his brother. He shut his eyes, taking in a deep breath, and produced a small vial from his pocket, downing its contents with a somewhat soured expression before he tossed it aside and then drew his sword.

"Alright, Arathyn!" He called at the top of his lungs. "We both know you're watching me! Come out now; I'm ready to face you!"

A moment later, a low chuckle was heard; Shadewa looked over his shoulder in time to see Arathyn emerge from behind a white stone column. Although he appeared to carry no weapon, Shadewa knew better than to think that meant he could win this battle easily; there was no doubt in his mind Arathyn could either summon a weapon or had one concealed on his body somewhere.

Shadewa turned to face him, but said nothing. It was Arathyn who broke the silence first. "Resigned yourself to your fate, little brother?" He asked.

"Running from you is pointless," replied Shadewa. "You have the patience of the mountains themselves and would wait until they crumbled to get to me. Hiding isn't an option; you can simply scry my location and track me down." He held up his sword. "There's only one way to end this."

Arathyn chuckled again. "As brave as you are persceptive," he stated. "If a little foolish; you'd live longer trying to run from me."

"Die now, die later; what difference does it make?" Shadewa asked. "Regardless, one of us is not walking away from here; one of us is ending this blood feud that has spawned between us, here… and now."

Arathyn gave his brother an amused grin. "Ah, if only you had not become so weak of heart; father would be proud to see such determination from you."

"Before we fight, brother," Shadewa asked. "Answer me one thing, and one thing only."

"Very well," asked Arathyn. "I cannot promise I'll answer any question, but you may ask whatever you choose." He crossed his arms. "Relieve your curiosity then, brother."

"What happened to you in Mournhold?" Shadewa asked. "Where did the brother I idolized, cherished, respected and admired disappear to, and become replaced by the vile creature I look upon now?"

The smile on Arathyn's face vanished as he looked at his brother with a blank stare. "Disappear to?" He echoed. "I don't know what it is you remember of me, Shadewa, but…"

"I remember an ambitious but respectable Dunmer, who strove to achieve greatness without ever forsaking the things that already made him great," stated Shadewa. "You and I were raised together; we played, trained and fought together; I should know you as well as I know myself, but when I look at you now, I see nothing of the elf I knew. You've become spiteful of everything around you, disregarding of life no matter what race it is, and you seem eager to spill the blood of your own brother." Shadewa's gaze became stern. "The brother that I trained with, that day in Vivec, would never draw a sharpened blade on me; I want to know what changed that."

There was a long silence between the two as they stared into one another's eyes; for a while Shadewa believed that Arathyn would deny him an answer of any kind and simply attack him without a word. But Shadewa was surprised as Arathyn spoke his next sentence.

"Forgive me, brother," he stated. "But I simply do not have an answer for you." His brow furrowed. "Because the person you're describing to me does not sound like me at all; I feel no familiarity, or recall having such weakness as devoting myself to family ties." He uncrossed his arms. "All I remember, is that I seek power, and dominance… and to ensure that no one can ever question my strength."

"And that's why you seek to kill me?" Shadewa asked. "Because you want to show the world that you'll shed the blood of anyone who doesn't share your ideals or put their noses to the ground at your passing?"

"No," said Arathyn. "I simply don't want any weakness in my bloodline. When you tossed aside our ancient traditions, and began to treat those lizards and cats like they deserved anything more than submission to us, you became a taint in my bloodline. I will not allow myself to be connected with such weakness, and the only way to ensure that is to erase you from the world of Nirn."

Shadewa's heart stung… this was not the answer he had expected, and it only proved to him that his once beloved brother had completely forsaken the person he had once been; the Arathyn that Shadewa had loved and admired was gone forever…

"So that's all I am," he said. "Just a weak link in the chain."

"Nothing more," returned Arathyn.

Shadewa narrowed his eyes as his gaze fell to the ground. "So be it then," he said. "Simply having different ideals, and seeing other living, breathing, intelligent beings as equals; if those two things make me a weak link in a family chain, then perhaps it's time to change things."

Arathyn raised an eyebrow. "You're going to try to make amends?" He asked. "Try to return to the family? I admit, such a thing is not impossible but…"

"As of now," Shadewa interjected. "I renounce any connection to the Andalara family, House Redoran, or Dark Elves of Morrowind." He knelt down and placed his left hand on the soil near his feet. "This ground, this earth… this is all I am bound to now; I am not of Morrowind, I am of Cyrodiil. I am not House Redoran, I am a Knight of the White Stallion, the Hero of Kvatch, and Champion of Cyrodiil."

He stood back up again. "And the name Andalara… well, I just happen to share a name to a large family of Morrowind," he went on. "As far as I am concerned, Arathyn Andalara is not my brother, Vaverel Andalara is not my father, and Feliama Andalara is not my mother. I am no one's child," he fixed Arathyn with a freezing glare. "And no one's brother."

Arathyn stood, with an awestruck expression on his face, which soon turned to a scowl. "You think it's so easy to throw away your heritage, just like that; a simple exchange of meaningless words separates you from the very thing you were born into?!" He looked ready to explode with anger. "You think that cleanses _me_ of the stain you put upon my lineage?!"

"If you, who claims such devotion to your bloodline, can so easily erase someone from it by taking their life," replied Shadewa. "Then it should be just as easy to deny any affiliation with them, and forget they even exist." He held his sword at his side, to show that he was willing to let it down still. "Go home now to Morrowind, Arathyn; let this feud go, and forget I even exist. We don't need to kill each other."

Arathyn suddenly burst out laughing. "You're a bigger fool than I realized," he stated. "So long as you draw breath there's no denying who and what you are, Shadewa, and every exhale is spite on our name. The only way to put an end to that…" He raised one hand, which glowed brightly with magic. "Is to forcefully remove you from the lineage."

"So, then, there's no talking you out of this," said Shadewa.

"Until you're dead and buried, there's nothing more to discuss," returned Arathyn as a Bound Spear emerged from the light around his hand, extending to its full length before he grasped it. "And I am going to be the one to do it."

"Then," Shadewa brought his sword back to a combat-ready position. "I accept your challenge, you wretch. You're not my brother, and now I will have no qualms against killing you. To me, you're just another madman with a weapon, and I can kill such a person easily."

"You say that as if you actually think you can beat me," retorted Arathyn. "You've never beaten me even once in a sparring match; do you think you have any better a chance in a battle to the death?"

"I do," said Shadewa. "Because now…" He gripped his sword with both hands. "I'm no longer afraid of hurting someone I care about, meaning there's absolutely nothing to hold me back."

Arathyn narrowed his eyes, his smug grin fading. "So be it then," he stated. "You shall die here then, in the place you call your home now, and your body will rest in a whole in the ground, instead of an honoured place in our ancestral tomb; you have shamed our bloodline for the last time!"

Arathyn rushed forward, stabbing his spear forward; Shadewa sidestepped the attack easily, and made a stab towards Arathyn. The elder elf was far enough away he leaned out of the path of the thrust, and stepped away from Shadewa to bring his spear back into a ready position. Each thrust he made after that was parried or evaded by Shadewa, the elite training of Shadewa's time with the Blades, and the change in his demeanor alike becoming more and more apparent through the battle; he was fighting more and more effectively with each passing minute.

When Arathyn's summoned spear expired, he was left vulnerable for only an instant, but was slashed directly across his chest, drawing blood; he had managed to move away just before the slash could have been lethal, but the Akaviri blade wielded by his brother had slashed through the leather armour as easily as it would have wet parchment.

Arathyn recoiled from the cut, clutching the newly opened wound on his chest, a look of astonishment on his face. "You weren't even able to wound me last time," he uttered, before he looked at Shadewa. "You truly have changed, brother."

"You do not get to call me 'brother', Arathyn," stated Shadewa. "You're no family of mine, and you never will be again."

Arathyn scoffed. "You can deny everything you want, but you cannot deny that we share blood, Shadewa," he stated. "That is something you cannot change with a blade."

"Maybe not, but it's a first step to redeeming myself of the atrocities I committed under you and the rest of the Redoran!" He lunged forward again, aiming to finish off Arathyn then and there.

The elder Dunmer cast another spell, this time summoning a sword to his hand just in time to block Shadewa's blade, and the duel was on. However, Arathyn was clearly not as accustomed to using a sword as he was a spear; though his stance and maneuvers were correct, some of his counter-attacks were somewhat awkward.

The two exchanged blows for a while, until Arathyn managed to find an opening and slash Shadewa's chest; the younger elf angled himself to keep the blow a glancing one, the sword cutting across his surcoat, splitting it, but not the chainmail beneath, and the failed slash left Arathyn exposed to Shadewa's next strike.

Shadewa slashed Arathyn across his side, opening a massive wound in his flank and sending the elder elf reeling in agony, dropping his sword which promptly vanished as he did. Arathyn doubled over, falling onto his uncut side and writhed for a moment, glaring at Shadewa.

The younger elf stepped over to him, and had his sword ready once more. "This is where it ends, Arathyn," he stated.

"I'll NEVER be killed by the likes of you!" barked Arathyn as he thrust his hand toward Shadewa, and several lightning bolts erupted from his fingers, striking Shadewa in the chest and launching him through the air; the younger elf hit the ground painfully.

At that close range, the intensity of that lightning spell would've been significantly increased; there was no way Shadewa could have survived it… but sure enough, as Arathyn watched, Shadewa began to rise up from the ground again, staggering somewhat, but alive.

"How… how is that possible?!" Arathyn demanded. "You couldn't have survived a Lightning Bolt spell at that close range; nothing can!"

"You're right," replied Shadewa. "However, I knew that you'd use one, so I prepared myself beforehand." He approached Arathyn, holding the spot on his chest where the lightning had struck him with one hand, and his sword raised in the other.

"That potion you drank…" uttered Arathyn.

"Was a Potion of Resist Shock," finished Shadewa. "We know Fire isn't going to kill me; I'm a Dark Elf, after all, and you never did have much aptitude for Frost Magic, meaning you've run out of things to fight me with."

"Not yet I haven't," retorted Arathyn, rising to his feet. "I still have enough magic left for one more summoning spell!" He raised up his hand, the palm already glowing.

But Shadewa struck first.

He lunged forward with startling quickness, and slashed at Arathyn's raised hand. In a spray of blood, the hand went flying away from Arathyn's body, and landed in the grass nearby. "AAAAHHHH!" Arathyn screamed in both horror in pain, looking at the stump where his hand had been as blood poured forth from it, horrified by what had just happened.

Shadewa held his sword at Arathyn's throat. "You lose, brother," he stated, coldly.

"You won't kill me," Arathyn returned defiantly, still clutching the bleeding stump of his arm.

"Why not?" Shadewa asked.

"Because you don't have the strength for it," returned Arathyn. "And even if you did, slaying a member of House Redoran will only incite problems for your precious Empire."

"This was a contest of arms that you started," retorted Shadewa. "I have two witnesses that can prove you drew first blood when you attacked me yesterday, and before you even mention the attack on the Telvanni, they were harassing an Argonian who can, and would happily vouch for me acting in their defense. There's nothing you can use against me, Arathyn." He lowered his sword. "But you are correct about one thing… I'm not going to kill you."

Arathyn grinned. "I knew you were too much of a coward to…"

He was interrupted by Shadewa's armoured fist striking him across the face, sending him spiralling to the ground and bloodying his lip; he awkwardly pushed himself back up onto his knees and glared at Shadewa, his maimed right hand still stuck into the pit of his left arm.

"I'm going to let you live, so you can be my messenger," stated Shadewa. "You can pass my earlier message along to our parents and relatives, that as far as I'm concerned, I have no family, and even if they ever were to forgive me, I will have nothing to do with them anymore. Letting you walk away from this is the last act of kindness I give you, but as of today my history in Morrowind is nothing more than a memory." He stepped back from Arathyn.

"Shadewa…" growled the elder elf.

"Get… out… of my sight," Shadewa snarled, in the coldest tone of voice imaginable.

In a moment, Arathyn backed away from Shadewa, never looking away from him until he turned his back on the younger elf, sprinting towards the edge of the road, and after crossing the road he leapt off the cliff edge into the lake below. Shadewa approached the cliff and peered over, spotting Arathyn walking on the surface of the water –a simple water-walking spell that most magi could use, and he set out to the east across the Niben, never looking back at Shadewa again as he strode across the murky water.

Once Arathyn was out of sight, Shadewa's sword fell to the ground, and he dropped to his knees. It was not of fatigue that made him this way, but as he pulled back the chainmail coif and exposed his fire-red hair to the sun, tears streamed from his eyes, and he sat there, sobbing in the noon sunlight.

He did not know why he suddenly needed to cry, but the pain felt familiar; the pain of loss he'd felt during his exile. Why that was back now, he couldn't say, but he did not try to keep it in; there was too much to contain… all he could do was just let it out…

Arathyn was almost halfway to Cheydinhal when he stopped to take a look at the stump where his hand had been; the bleeding had long-since stopped, despite the severity of the cut. Although he could feel the muscles and skin mending themselves, slowly but surely.

"You have not seen the last of me yet, brother," he stated as he kept walking forward. "I'll not let scum like you wander with my blood in his veins." He looked over his shoulder back towards the west; to any onlookers his eyes would change colour, from the red of Dunmer, to a strange, eerie orange colour. "When I come back… you will suffer, greatly."


	4. A Shadow Over Bruma

**The Elder Scrolls Adventures**

Volume 4:

A Shadow over Cyrodiil

"So much turmoil," stated the shadowy figure as the image of Chorrol faded from the mirror before him; having spent most of the day scrying, he saw for himself how rapidly the Empire was already beginning to deteriorate. Not even a month had passed since the Oblivion Crisis had ended, and the Empire was so weakened they could never be able to stop his plans…

He cast his scrying spell again, and his mirror became filled with the image of the White Gold Tower. "Somewhere, in there, the key to my destiny resides," stated the mage, his image visible in the enchanted mirror, but obscured by the scenery within it. "Somewhere in that tower, the power that is rightfully mine lays just out of reach… but soon I shall have it." The image changed to the Imperial City's graveyard. "So many newly dead… so many potential soldiers for my army, all across this province."

With another wave of his hand, the mirror's image changed to that of a city in snow, where a crater of absolutely desecrated ground lay, filled with the bodies of Daedra, and people still working to clear them out. He stepped close to the mirror, and his face became clearer; his pale-skinned, human features, well into his elder years, and the sockets of his eyes so dark it looked as if he had not slept in many, many days.

"It shall begin… with Bruma," the man uttered before he turned his back on the mirror, and its image faded away.

When the door to Torine's house opened, Gileroth and the hunter both sprang to their feet, and peered around to see Shadewa walking in. He looked distraught, but otherwise he seemed to be moderately unharmed. His armour was a little damaged, and his sword had some nicks in its edge, but all easily repaired by the local smithy.

"You made it!" Gileroth exclaimed. For the first time since meeting him, Shadewa saw the Nord out of his armour, wearing a regular belted tunic and slacks. He clapped Shadewa on the shoulder and nearly sent the Dark Elf face-planting into the floor with the force of his powerful hand. "I knew you couldn't lose to that skeever in elf skin; well done!"

Torine could see Shadewa's expression, and while Gileroth praised him, the hunter could see that the red-haired Dunmer was not celebrating his victory even in his mind. "Shadewa… is something troubling you?" He asked.

It was then Gileroth noticed the Dark Elves' solemn expression as well. "Hey… hey, why do you look so sad? Didn't you win the battle?" He scoffed. "Of course; stupid question. Of course you did! Did you kill that miserable scoundrel?"

"Gileroth," Torine interjected.

"What?" The Nord asked. "I'm simply trying to learn how the fight went, I mean…"

"Gileroth!" Torine snapped. "There comes a time to be silent, and to know when someone does not wish to talk about the aftermath of their battle." He stepped aside, and Shadewa walked past without even looking at either of them, making his way over to a chair and sitting down, arms folding in his lap and eyes shutting.

"What's the matter with him?" Gileroth whispered.

"Don't you understand, Gileroth?" Torine asked. "He won the battle, but clearly he lost something else as well. That expression he has; I've seen it before, and it's the face of someone who feels as though their heart has been torn out."

Gileroth looked over at Shadewa for a moment, studying his face. The blank-expression of the Dark Elf was unbefitting of him; Shadewa always had a thoughtful expression about him when he wasn't speaking, but right now he simply looked… lost, in his own thoughts.

"What do you suppose happened out there?" Gileroth asked.

"Well, I can't say for certain, but as a man with a sibling myself, I think I can imagine it didn't end well," replied Torine. "But we shouldn't pry for the answer; when Shadewa wants to tell us, he shall." He turned and walked over to the dining table near where Shadewa sat, grabbing a pitcher from a cupboard he passed, which let out a slight sloshing sound as he did. He poured some of the contents into a goblet on the table, shown to simply be water.

Torine approached Shadewa and offered him the goblet, but the Dark Elf didn't even look at it. "Shadewa, you won the battle," said Torine. "What is it that is troubling you so?"

"I won nothing, Torine," stated Shadewa. "Only heartache…"

"Did you… slay him?" Gileroth inquired.

Shadewa only shook his head.

"Then, he spared you?"

The Dark Elf shook his head again.

"Well then, damn it man, what happened?"Gileroth demanded, stepping up to the Dunmer.

"Gileroth, wait…" Torine tried to stop the Nord.

"You keep dodging around the question of whether or not you won the battle but you're sitting there, brooding, but whole and alive," the Nord pried further. "You clearly didn't get killed, so that means you had to have won the battle, so what in the name of Shor are you so unhappy about?"

Shadewa's gaze raised, and his eyes burned like hellfires as he glared at Gileroth. "You don't understand anything, do you?!" He shot to his feet, so quickly it made Gileroth stumble back, and prompted Torine to back away as well. "That was my own brother I had to fight! Do you have any idea what that feels like, having to raise your blade against your own kin?!  
"We Dark Elves honor our ancestors, our heritages are everything to us; even a Necromancer will openly refuse to ever experiment or cast magic upon his own relatives' bodies! You people of the west see us as grim, brooding and cruel; maybe we are, but blood ties are our very fibre of being! I've been exiled from my homeland, I'm despised by my own family, and just to defend my own life I was forced to maim my own brother; I cut his damn hand off!"

He collapsed, unable to hold back any longer, and went right to his knees, his eyes watering. "I hate myself… I hate what I am; I'm hated by my own people! I don't know why I even carry on anymore! Everyone I care about, or have ever cared about, is either dead or wants ME dead!" He raised his head. "What's left for me in a…"

He didn't even get to finish before Gileroth's heavy fist struck him across the face and sent him flying into the table, knocking over a couple of chairs and some of the items already laid out across it.

"Gileroth, are you mad?!" Torine demanded. "You could have broken his neck!"

"I held back," returned the nord as he stormed up to Shadewa.

The already angered elf was getting back to his feet and, fist clenched, swung at Gileroth as he neared, striking the massive Nord across the jaw. Rather than punch the Dunmer again, Gileroth grabbed Shadewa by his shoulders, swung him around and slammed him up against the wall, pinning him, and his fierce, sky-blue eyes met the ruby red of the dark skinned elf.

"You are a damn fool if you think there's nothing left for you!" Gileroth growled. "In a world so vast and expansive you don't think there's somewhere out there that you would be welcomed?!"

"Like where?!" Shadewa demanded. "How often are my people actually welcomed anywhere? The Argonians and Khajiit resent us, you Nords are suspicious of us because of how long you traded blows with other elves, including the ancient Falmer and Dwemer centuries ago, and the High Elves look upon us as stains to the race of elves!"

"And what do the people of Cyrodiil see you as?" Gileroth demanded. "You saved the whole world from certain destruction by the Daedra, saved all the races of Tamriel from being massacred by the forces of Oblivion! Do you think that means nothing to them all?!"

"Martin Septim… saved Tamriel, not me," returned Shadewa. "He sacrificed himself to defeat Mehrunes Dagon; all I could do was watch as he became the Avatar of Akatosh, and died after defeating Dagon. _He_ saved Tamriel, not _me_!"

"And who got him there?!" Gileroth pressed further, and also tightened his grip on Shadewa's shoulders. "Who liberated Kvatch and rescued him from the Daedra, travelled all over the land to save Bruma, and who was it that helped Martin become the hero he'll be remembered as?!"

Shadewa couldn't respond to that.

Gileroth lowered him down to his feet again. "You sell yourself short, Shadewa," he stated. "You've taken all the critics that people direct towards your people, and turned it all completely on its head when you became the Champion of Cyrodiil, yet you still bear them as if your actions have meant nothing. You turned your back on your people because of the things your family and the house you served did to others. Why would you hate yourself for being _different_ than others?"

Shadewa looked at Gileroth. "Why do you care so much?" He asked, his voice somewhat broken. "I'm not a Nord."

"You don't have to be," returned Gileroth. "Look, I haven't known you for long, Shadewa, but a Nord knows to trust their gut, and mine tells me that you're somebody who I can respect and admire, and who others can as well. And, that you're someone who can be trusted."

"And aside from your gut, what other evidence of this do you have?"

"Have you already forgotten about Reltaria?" Gileroth asked. "The Argonian who I saw you have a strong bond with, despite not knowing her much longer than you've known me?"

Shadewa froze at that question… Reltaria, the one who had brought him out of his misery before… by Azura, what would she think if she saw him relapsing back into that terrible depression he'd had before? His gaze fell at that question, and he could not think of anything else to say.

"You disgrace yourself for imagined faults, Shadewa," the Nord went on. "Sure, you did wrong under House Redoran before, but you tried to change it, didn't you? You chose doing the right thing over keeping the respect of your people; you chose to be something else. The entire Empire respects and admires you, and entire cities welcome your very presence.

"Your brother, I don't know what it is that made him hate you so much, but I don't care what; it's probably something foolish anyway," continued Gileroth. "You have a new home, here in Cyrodiil. You have friends in two races that, by all historical accounts, should be your enemies. But you spit in the face of history, and in that of tradition, in order to be the better person. Don't you think that makes your existence meaningful?"

Shadewa's legs felt like scrib jelly; he slid to the floor, sitting down with his back against the wall, staring at his knees for a long while, before he looked up at Gileroth, his face covered with an expression of guilt. "I'm sorry…" he whispered.

Gileroth offered him a hand. "Think nothing of it, my friend," he said. When Shadewa grasped his hand, the Nord hoisted Shadewa to his feet.

Then the Dark Elf turned to Torine. "And I'm sorry to you as well, Torine, that you had to witness that… that side of me. Not exactly a good impression on someone you just met, is it?"

Torine shrugged. "You aren't without reason for your sadness, Shadewa," he stated. "I have a brother too. A brother and a sister, actually, and though sometimes I butt heads with them, they are important to me, as blood ties always are. You had every right to be upset, having to fight your own sibling, especially when you idolized him so, once."

Shadewa nodded. "I still don't know what changed him," he said. "I even tried to appeal to his former self, hoping it'd bring something of him back out. But it did nothing… he's fallen too far into madness, and I understand now that the brother I knew and loved is long gone; mere words will not bring him back, nor will it bring back the love of my family. All I can do now is start my life over."

"Exactly," agreed Gileroth. "And besides, unlike me or Torine, you've got a lot more time to find a new life for yourself!" He said this with humor.

Shadewa chuckled. "Yes, that I do," he agreed. "I cannot change the past, but I still control my future, and I will find my path."

"And what will you do with that time first?" Gileroth inquired.

Shadewa looked at him, and then smiled warmly. "I think for starters, I'm going to go home, rest, and when I wake up the next morning, I shall begin searching for my new future."

"You're both welcome to stay here if you like," offered Torine.

Shadewa waved his in decline of the offer. "No… that's very generous, but I think I need some time to think things over," he politely replied to the hunter. "But, perhaps I can go hunting with you sometime?"

Torine arched an eyebrow. "You sure you could keep up with me? I have run down deer for their meat and pelts, my friend."

"We can only find out, can't we?"

"Well then, stay in Bravil for the night at least, and tomorrow morning, you and I shall go see about catching some mudcrabs along the shore of the Niben."

"Mudcrabs?" Shadewa repeated. "Do you think me some sort of novice, Torine? I hunt much bigger game than a simple mud crab."

"Very well then," returned Torine. "I'm sure I can find something bigger when the dawn comes. I am a tracker, after all." He turned to Gileroth. "Will you be joining us too?"

Gileroth shook his head. "Hunting beasts is one thing, but my thrills are in hunting a challenging opponent," he replied. "I'm going to head for the Bravil Chapter of the Fighter's Guild while the day is still young, and sign on with them. Perhaps I'll even get my first assignment."

"I guess it'll just be Shadewa and myself then," stated Torine. "You'd probably only slow us down anyway." He grinned.

"Oh ho!" Gileroth bellowed. "You looking to get a boot in the arse?"

"You can try," returned Torine, turning his back on Gileroth. The Nord made a kick for the hunter, but Torine stepped out of the way, causing Gileroth to lose his balance and fall on his backside. "But you will miss."

Both Shadewa and Torine had a laugh at the Nord's expense, and Gileroth only grumbled. "Ah, damn you both."

Early the next morning, Torine and Shadewa set out, garbed only in casual clothes and carrying their respective bows, setting out into the countryside for their little hunting expedition. In the meantime, Gileroth visited the Bravil Fighter's Guild chapter to enlist. When he entered, he sought the highest ranking member, Nahsi, a Khajiit Monk. Many rumours were passed around town about her fighting skills; apparently a few of those rumours foolishly referred to her as a male.

A few things that remained consistent though, she could be considered chapter head, as she was the highest ranking member of the Bravil Chapter, and she was an amazing fighter. She carried no weapons, cementing her reputation as a hand-to-hand fighter. Though if she was as skilled as the rumours made her out to be, it's not as if she actually needed a weapon.

When Gileroth approached, she respectfully put her hands together and bowed. "Warm greetings to you, sir. I am Nahsi, your humble servant."

"A pleasure to meet you, ma'am," returned Gileroth, trying to be as polite as possible; he was still new to Cyrodiil, and it showed, but Nahsi seemed satisfied with his approach.

"What brings you to our chapter today; are you here to join the Fighter's Guild?" The cat-woman asked.

"That I am; how do I go about signing up?" Gileroth asked.

"Oh it is quite simple; I can sign you up myself," she replied. "I'll send an official notice along to the Guildmaster, but if you've made up your mind, I can enlist you right now."

Gileroth nodded. "I've made my decision; I want in."

"Very well then," Nahsi stated. "You are now an Associate of the Fighter's Guild. Normally, you'd go to Azzan in Anvil or Burz gro-Khash in Cheydinhal, but since the fall of Blackwood Company and the arrival of our newest Guildmaster, you can receive contracts from any chapter in Cyrodiil, and there's plenty of work to be done." She proceeded to fill him in on basic rules, people of interest in other chapters around Cyrodiil, and that he was free to come looking for contracts whenever he so chose.

"What do you have right now?" Gileroth inquired.

"Only a couple of things at your rank, but I…" She paused as she noticed something behind Gileroth; the Nord looked over his shoulder to see another of the chapter members, a Breton in full steel plate armour much like Gileroth's, approaching.

"Nahsi, you have to read this copy of the Black Horse Courier that just arrived!" He exclaimed, showing a rolled up parchment in his hand.

"Can't it wait, Vincent? We have a new member…"

"Just read it, will you?!"

Nahsi scowled somewhat, but maintained her even composure, and took the rolled up parchment, unrolling it and reading it over carefully. Her gaze altered to one of astonishment as she read, and looked at Vincent. "When did this arrive?"

"Just picked one up a few moments ago; it's today's."

"What is it?" Gileroth asked. "Has something happened?"

"Indeed something has," replied Nahsi. "Listen to this: _Over the course of the night, corpses that were due to be removed from the site of what is known as the Battle for Bruma of the Oblivion Crisis, suddenly disappeared in the darkness of the night, with no trace as to where they were moved to. Night watchmen report seeing nothing out of the ordinary during the night, except for some brief blinking lights they thought were merely will-o-wisps wandering the darkness._

_The Countess of Bruma, Narina Carvain, has formally announced that the Mage's Guild has been asked to investigate the cause, suspecting the involvement of Necromancer's taking advantage of the aftermath of the very recent Oblivion Crisis. The Arch Mage of the Arcane University herself has decreed she will come to investigate, as in an unseen turn of events, during the Oblivion Crisis the Mage's Guild seemed to be fighting its own war against the Necromancer's who ransacked the Bruma chapter right under the noses of the city watch, further supporting the theory that this may be them attempting to regain strength._

_Until this crisis is averted, all travellers are urged to stay away from Bruma. We hope to uncover this mystery as soon as possible." _She looked up from the parchment. "It sounds like there may be some trouble near Bruma then."

"If you'd like, Nahsi, I can head up there to the Bruma chapter," offered Gileroth. "I know the way there, and I could be of help if the Fighter's Guild is needed."

Nahsi looked hesitant. "I admit, I am not comfortable sending a low-ranking member all by themselves to something so dangerous, especially for their first mission, but I don't have very many others I could send at all, and it'll take days to get word to Burz, Azzan or the Guildmaster. Bruma has even less people than I do!"

"Don't worry; I won't go alone," promised Gileroth. "I have two friends here in Bravil, and another in the Imperial City, who could all come with me. I know I can trust them all, and they will be glad to help."

Nahsi nodded. "Alright; I trust you to handle this then. But do be careful."

"I will," promised Gileroth, before he turned and hurried out the door. "Now to find Shadewa and Torine."

"When you said you would find something bigger, Torine, I was not expecting a Minotaur!" Shadewa exclaimed after their last pair of arrows finally dropped the mighty man-beast with bulls' horns that Torine had tracked them to for the past hour. "Unusual to see one this far from the Elsweyr though; I thought they preferred the open plains."

"They do, but every so often some wander into Cyrodiil," replied Torine. "Their horns sell to Alchemists for a pretty good sum around here; makes an easy living, if you have the skills to take one down."

"I see," replied Shadewa. "What about the rest of the minotaur?"

"Teeth sell pretty well too, and their skulls make good trophies," replied Torine. "It's separating them all that's difficult; there's a lot of muscle to cut through on their neck."

Shadewa nodded, impressed by Torine's expertise, and how easily he was able to take down a minotaur, with just a single, well-placed shot at that, right to the Minotaur's brain stem at the back of the neck. "Where did you learn to shoot a bow so well?" Shadewa added. "I've seen many Bosmer who couldn't shoot that accurately." Bosmer, also called Wood Elves, often considered the greatest archers in Tamriel. Shadewa had met many of them in his life but his words were true; he had met few that could shoot as well as Torine.

"Well, you see," began Torine. "I'm not actually from Cyrodiil. I've been all across Tamriel, actually, but I was born in Valenwood. Growing up there, I learned Archery from the best teachers I could find, and practiced with a bow ever since I was a child. Overtime, I guess I became quite skilled, I suppose."

"Quite? That's putting it mildly," stated Shadewa. "When you shot that minotaur, we were easily fifty paces away, and you had a one-inch targetting area, and yet you hit it spot on, paralying and instantly killing the minotaur. Archery like that is not easy; I've been using a bow for thirty years myself, and I've never landed a shot like that. I'm much better with the sword."

"I'm not bad with a sword, but I feel more comfortable with a bow," returned Torine. "I guess that makes us opposites."

"Indeed," agreed Shadewa.

"Well, I guess we better get to work scalping this Minotaur, then," said Torine, holstering his body on his back and drawing his dagger. "Especially if we want to be out of here before any scavengers come along."

"Right," agreed Shadewa, also drawing his own dagger; a weapon he very rarely used, but always kept readily concealed in his boot as a backup weapon, just in case the need ever arose.

As the two of them worked, though, they'd soon hear hurried footsteps coming their way; heavy steps at that, like someone clad in armour. They stood up from their job, each of them already holding one of the Minotaur's horns in their hands, when Gileroth came sprinting into view. He saw the horns they held, and the carcass between them. "I guess my timing is bad?" He asked.

"Could have been worse," replied Torine. "You look rushed though; what is the matter?"

"Just learned of some crazy stuff happening up in Bruma," replied Gileroth. "Apparently a lot of corpses from the Battle for Bruma have been disappearing each night, before they could be moved and buried. People in Bruma are terrified and the Fighter's Guild thinks we should also be stepping up; our blades may be needed if there's danger."

"Indeed they might," agreed Shadewa. "Bruma is severely weakened after the battle near where the Oblivion Gates formed; if there's still danger lurking near the Jeralls, the whole city may be threatened."

"My thoughts exactly," said Gileroth. "The Fighter's Guild, and of course myself, sees potential contracts, but with or without that, Bruma's going to need all the blades it can get. They're sending me up there to report to the Fighter's Guild chapter in Bruma, but I thought I'd ask you guys to come along."

"Bruma is a long journey, Gileroth," stated Torine. "Are you certain this is not simply superstitious nonsense? I'd hate to travel all the way up there and find nothing."

"Look, I understand that, but if this was just superstitious nonsense, the Mage's Guild wouldn't be heading up there too, now would they?" Gileroth asked sternly.

"The Mage's Guild?" Shadewa inquired; he knew that the guild of spellcasters wouldnt be responding to something unless they knew there was more to it than simple conjecture.

"Yeah; the Black Horse Courier I read said the Archmage or something was heading up there themselves," replied Gileroth.

"If the Archmage is intrigued by this, it may indeed be bigger than we believe," stated Shadewa, looking at Torine.

The hunter met his gaze for a moment, and then looked at Gileroth, before he sighed. "Very well... I suppose I could use some time away from the Niben. And, this could be a good opportunity for me to hunt some bears too, so it may all work out in the end."

Shadewa chuckled. "Take the good with the bad, then," he stated.

"I think we should also meet up with Reltaria along the way," stated Gileroth. "If the Mage's Guild is heading there we may need our own spell slinger for a little added protection."

Shadewa liked the idea of bringing Reltaria along. Not just because she was a mage, particularly a healer, but he had yearned to be reunited with her ever since they'd parted near Lake Rumare. He couldn't think of why, but he just wanted to see her again. A wry smile appeared on his face when she was mentioned, but it faded when he heard Torine mocking Gileroth.

"Do I detect a bit of nervousness in your voice, my friend?" The hunter asked the Nord.

"What?! Of course not; I'm not afraid of anything, Torine, and don't you forget it!"

"Oh dear, I seem to have struck a nerve again."

Shadewa and Torine were once again laughing at Gileroth's expense, leaving the Nord grumbling and cursing both of them until they started back for Bravil to prepare themselves for their journey.

"I hope you have a good reason for dragging me out here, Vulric," stated the senior guard as the two of them wandered just beyond the lights of Bruma's torches, approaching the site where the Battle for Bruma had taken place. Both guards wore the mail shirts and yellow, padded surcoats of the Bruma guard, carrying fine steel longswords and shields –except for Vulric, the younger, who carried a torch to light their way.

"I'm not making it up, Galen; I'm telling you, last night on my watch I saw wierd lights coming from the battle zone, and then this morning, more of the bodies from the battle were missing," replied Vulric. "I want to see if they appear again tonight, and this time I want to see what's causing them."

"Didn't we already decide that the lights were just will-o-wisps?" Galen asked, growing more impatient with having his time wasted; his watch had ended for the evening already and he wanted nothing more than to return to his house to enjoy some Tamika wine and sleep the night away. But Vulric, who was his relief for gate duty, had insisted on coming out here.

"You think I don't know what will-o-wisps look like?" Vulric asked. "Besides, the lights I saw were going out and relighting at random; will-o-wisps don't flicker like that."

"Actually they do, when they're moving about," corrected Galen.

"It's not wisps!"

"Then what do you think it is?"

"The Daedra, of course!"

"The dead Daedra lying all over that battlefield?"

"Them, or their fellow kin coming back from Oblivion to collect their dead."

Galen slapped himself in the forehead, his gauntlet pinging against his forehead. "_That _is what you think is going on out here?!" He demanded. "People say I'm getting senile in my old age but you are on the brink of foolishness! Daedra don't collect their dead; they reincarnate themselves back in Oblivion! Gathering their bodies would be a wasted effort, not to mention impossible; the barriers between Nirn and Oblivion were re-established by the avatar of Akatosh; the Daedra can't come back!"

"Well what if they can't return to their own world?" Vulric asked. "Maybe the barriers are so strong even their spirits can't go home and leaving them unable to reincarnate, so they're possessing their old bodies, getting up again, and now plot revenge on us for trapping them here?!"

Galen groaned in frustration. "Oh that just does it," he stated, turning on his heel and storming back towards Bruma.

"Where are you going?" Vulric asked.

"I'm going home," replied Galen as he marched beyond the torchlight, vanishing into blackness but his voice still heard. "I'm not letting you waste my time chasing some foolish nonsense; I'm going back to my house, having some wine and sl-_ock!_"

Vulric irked an eyebrow. "Wine and 'slop'? Is that what you said?" He called.

No response.

"Galen, don't be angry at me; I'm sorry!" He began to follow the old guard. "I didn't mean to let my imagination get away from me; I'll go back and..." He paused as he saw something rolling towards him out of the darkness, an occasional metallic _click _sounding as it tumbled across the rocky, icy ground, until it reached his feet.

Galen's head, eyes wide with shock as they stared up at him, and still twitching as though alive, lay there at his foot.

"AAAH!" Vulric screamed as he stepped to the side, the head rolling away as he tumbled off of his feet and fell on his rump. "By the Nine, what happened?!" He asked the head as though it would answer him, then scurried to his feet again and drew his sword. "Who's out there?! Show yourself, you murderer, by order of the Countess of Bruma!"

All he heard was a slight shuffling in the shadows; he turned towards the sound, pointing his sword forward. "Step into the light where I can see you!" He commanded.

The shuffling continued, and after the third time, he saw an armoured leg enter the circle of light cast by his torch; Vulric watched as the figure stepped further into view, elevating his torch to try and increase the radius of light cast by the flames. He saw a surcoat... a Bruma surcoat; a traitor?! No... it was not one of the guards he knew from the city... or was it?

The figure emerged fully into the light, and Vulric's heart skipped a beat.

There was no head on the body approaching him.

"G-Galen?" He asked, but then remembered the head was lying in the shadows near him; the body would never hear him... but how was it moving at all with the head gone?

Vulric continued to step back from the headless body as it kept shuffling towards him, until eventually he bumped into someone, and then he spun around to face them, a pale-skinned figure with eye sockets so dark they were like voids in the dim torchlight, but a pair of brown-coloured eyes could be seen in the dark circles as well as a blood-soaked cutlass in his hand... and the image of a demonic skull on the front of his robes.

A Necromancer!

"You... you're the reason all those bodies have been vanishing!" Vulric realized, silently cursing himself for believing the Daedra were coming back to life of their own accord. "And that cutlass has fresh blood; you killed Galen!" He glared at the Necromancer, his sword poised to stab him. "You've violated the law, and are hereby under arrest! Now call off your undead puppet and come quietly."

The Necromancer's lips slowly curled into a smile, and he began to chuckle sinisterly, before his chuckle turned into a fit of laughter. "Oh, you are so intimidating," he said, mockingly. "Trembling at the other end of that sword; I feel absolutely petrified."

"So you refuse to cooperate," growled Vulric. "Then pay with your blood!"

But as Vulric lunged forward to run the Necromancer through with his longsword, a power of powerful hands grabbed his shoulders, pulling him back, and then let go only to grab onto his neck, and clamping over his mouth, squeezing with a death grip around his throat and utterly silencing him.

The Necromancer approached Vulric with his cutlass poised; the guard weakly tried to swing his sword at the Necromancer only for the latter to parry it right out of Vulric's hand, his grip weakened by the lack of air reaching his lungs, and then he held the cutlass over his chest, the tip aimed for his heart, and already pushed through the surcoat to touch the mail beneath.

"Another for my ranks," the Necromancer uttered before drawing back his sword and thrusting it forward, perforating the guards' armour, flesh, passing between his ribs and piercing his heart.

The guards screams were too muffled by the dead hand over his mouth for anyone to hear from the walls of Bruma...


End file.
